The SemiComplete Works of William Soames Walthrop
by regertz
Summary: Poems, Essays from the works of William Soames Walthrop, aka Spike...in the Buffy Rebecca/Cicelyverse multiverses...
1. Chapter 1

From the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

Summary: Poems, Essays from the works of William Soames Walthrop, aka Spike...in the Buffy Rebecca verse...

Additional contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcome...

London, England 1880

For Cicely...

(Cicely?...BR...and, from her seat, Buffy give identical stares...

Ummn...Well...You see dearest...)

My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,

midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,

but soft...behold!

A sunlight beam

cutting a swath of glimmering gleam.

My heart expands,

'tis grown a bulge in it,

inspired by your beauty...

Effulgent...

(A weeping BR eyes a weeping Buffy...

Wow...They sigh in unison...

"Glimmering gleam?..." Dawn blinks at her weeping..."Shut up, Dawn"...sisters...)

Sunnydale 2000-2001

Stopping by the Woods On a Bloody Evening...

These Sunnydale woods are dank and deep...

Just perfect for my need...

I drag the lady in a bag...

For I have done the deed...

Her head now falls out from the sack...

Her lips do reek of gin...

A bloody hand sags from the bag...

I stuff it quickly in...

Her corpse is lovely, a bloody heap...

But dawn is nearing...Soon I must sleep

And I have human happy meals to reap...

So farewell woods...Farewell bloody bag...

Goodbye you poor Godforsaken hag...

For dawn is nearing and I must sleep...

And still have human happy meals to reap...

I Gave My Love a Blood-Spattered Corpse...

I gave my love a blood-spattered corpse...

She said to me... "Oooh, Spikey..."

"This bloody corpse is just the thing...

You got it oh...So rightly..."

Quoth my Dru... "You always know...

The thing to do politely..."

I gave my love a blood-spattered corpse...

Now she expects one...Nightly...

Chalice...

Slayer, oh Slayer...

My chalice, my red-rimmed cup of life and death...

I drink deep and leave you empty...

(With apologies to Robert Browning)

My Third Slayer...

That's my third Slayer mounted on the wall,

Looking as if she were alive. I call

That piece a wonder, now; Pandolf's hands

(Do you know his taxidermy work?...The greatest of our demonic artisans?...)

Worked busily a day, and there she hangs.

Will't please you sit and look at her? I said

"Pandolf" by design, for never read

Strangers like you that pictured countenance,

That depth and passion of its earnest glance,

But to myself they turned (since none puts by

The curtain drawn for you, but I)

And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

How such a glance came there; so not the first

Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not

Her nemesis'presence only, called that spot

Of fire into the Slayer's cheek: perhaps in the heat of battle

I chanced to say "Looking good, Slayerness"

or "Quite a dance always with you" or "Put your hands on my hot, tight

little ass and make me..." such stuff

Was more than mere gallant courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

For calling up that spot of passion. She had

A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,

Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

Sir, 't was all one! Her friends' smiles on her,

The dropping of the daylight in the West,

The bough of cherries that officious fool Harris

Broke in the orchard for her, some wisecrack I made to her-all and each

Would draw from her alike the approving speech,

Or blush,at least. She mocked me - good! but she also touched me

Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked

Me with the race of men. Who'd stoop to blame

This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

In speech - (which I have not) - to make your will

Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this

Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss

Or there exceed the mark; You waste time, Slayer,

Such trifles don't impress William the Bloody;

Lets' get on with it, girl"- and if she let

Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set

Her wits to yours, forsooth, made excuse, and stuck to the programme...

- E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose

Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled and would talk...and talk,

Whene'er I encountered her as if to offer me hope; but what vampire needs a

human's smile? This grew; I waited my chance;

Then all smiles stopped together. There she hangs

As if alive. But forever silent...

My Buffy...My one hope...

Will 't please you rise? We'll meet

The company below, then. I repeat,

The Count Dracula your master's known munificence

Is ample warrant that no just pretence

Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;

Though his fair 'daughter''s self and the merging of our vampiral families,

As I avowed at starting is my object. Nay, we'll go

Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,

Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,

Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.

(Well?...Spike looked at Harmony... "Neat...But the Slayer'll gonna kill you if she ever sees this..."

"Say...Who's Robert Browning?..."

"Ole pal from the '80s...18 that is...A hack I knew...But he had a few ideas I've made use of in my work..." Spike noted solemnly...)

Love and Redemption

Crushed...

But say there is no Buffy then for William...

What other pleasures can Sunnydale afford?...

He'll make his Heaven in Harmony's lap, bedecking her in Slayer dress...

Oh, monstrous thought and more repulsive than the glares of twenty Buffies...

But I...I who like one lost in a dark and thorny wood...Not knowing the way and not finding the way...

Striving to find the open air...So do I seek my Buffy...

And from this torment will I free myself...Or shoot my way with trusty shotgun...

Why...I can smile...And murder whilst I smile...Really I can...

Cry content to that which grieves my heart...Well, Angelis is better at that...

And set the twentieth century's greatest killers to school...

I'll stake more vamps than any Slayer shall...Slay more evil than that LA Christ-imitator ever could...

Can I do all this and not get a Buffy?...Hah!...If she were on the moon, I'd pluck her down...

Dropped in from the "normal" Buffyverse, courtesy of Big Bad...

"Life or Something Like It..." (Big Bad)...

It's cold here, it's always cold here.

The rain soaked gravestones are cold to the touch even on dead flesh,

dead hands touching reminders of what once was alive. Kind of ironic

don't you think.

How many people are here, how many unfulfilled lives made their way to

this place ?, does it matter now ?

I wonder, but I don't dwell.

The night air used to bring excitment and promise, songs and laughter,

fear and pain but no longer, nights are empty except for these few

moments when there is peace.

She always talked like this, a mixture of the real and surreal,

ancient incantations, like made up rhymes and how the stars used to

sing to her during the daylight hours and now I'm more like her than I

care to be.

What does it take to be the kind of man who would never hurt her,

shame on me, shame on you, thinking, dreaming, wasting endless tears,

trying to cut away the pain, take the spark out before it burns from

the inside out.

I dreamt many long sleepless nights, seeing it over and over in my

mind, killing her, I think there were dreams but it's them, me, it, the

other, they let me see what I am, the thing inside and they tell me,

all tell me, to go to hell.

Not her though.

She leaves me alone, leaves me to burn in my guilt, all I am is flesh

to her, not even real flesh, a ghost of the man I used to be, no, a

ghost of a ghost.

left alone to burn.

Don't blame her though.

Can't use sorry, can't say forgive me, they are no words for what I've

done, no words from me but the others have plenty to say, I hear them,

see them, feel the pain I caused them and the thing inside still

raging.

Listen to me, I sound like him now, was it so long ago that I tore

through countries, leaving behind angry mobs and trails of bodies,

fists and fangs, if it wasn't funny it would be sad.

Now look at me, wandering through the graves, alone, except I'm not

alone, not in here.

She comes to me sometimes, I don't know if it is real or not but here

she is again telling me that I belong to her, always been hers, her

sweet dark prince and I keep waiting for the punchline to the joke.

I was always hers, she was never mine, story of my unlife, she made

me, wanted a pet and being the fool I am, I followed her without

question, trailing behind like a lovesick schoolboy, hanging on every

word, it's the same with both of them. One tried to keep me in the

darkness, the other kept me out of the light.

Couldn't be the man she needed, couldn't be the man she could love and

that's the reason, thought I had the cure, find the missing piece, the

one that made me fit.

Oh, I found it, fought for it, killed for it and all it does is burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Always said I was love's bitch, now I've got this collar, this weight,

this prison inside my own mind, all for her, didn't know if I needed

the spark back before, didn't want it back, I've seen what it can do to

creatures like me, well, one creature like me.

But that was before.

Things changed so fast.

The rules changed.

Can't go back and fix things, can't take back the things I've done,

can't hurt the girl, not again.

Funny how somethings don't change ain't it ? too evil, not evil

enough, too cocky and arrogant, too thoughtful and sensitive, never fit

in but always there in the background, in the shadows, waiting, hoping

for a chance.

A chance for what ? to be the hero ? to be the man ? or just to be

anything other than what I am, lifeless, a cold, dead body inhabited by

a demon, time was this dead flesh was enough for her, to use and abuse,

it made her feel alive again, left me broken and bleeding.

Never did stop loving her, don't think I will

I'll fight for her, protect her, love her until I'm just dust in the

wind, so I suppose that's life or something like it.

Here she is, stood in front of me, lecturing, prodding me in the chest

with her fingers, going through the same old motions of telling me that

I'm worthless, no good and with a punch to the face she leaves.

She ends her tiresome tirade and walks away, flicking her long blonde

hair out of her eyes, I see her do that sometimes when she is upset or

angry and I feel the rage build up inside so I remind myself, it's not

time yet.

Bitch is going to get what she deserves, after all I've done for her,

ungratefull little bint.

I sit in the candlelight , alone, here where I feel like I belong,

with the rest of the dead, I'm not much for company these days, not

since she came back.

None of them need me now she's back, I helped them when there was no

one else, fought for them, bled for them and now?

Now I'm thrown away, useless, can't be a man, can't be a monster and I

thought she was messed up, what a world we live in, the heroes are the

abusers and the bad guys are the victims, and yet I'm told it's all for

the greater good.

Convinient, isn't that what she called me once, that being with me was

killing her, killing her ? all I was good for was a fight or a fuck.

The sun sets and she appears, I could tell her how much I love her but

it falls on deaf ears, I've said the words a thousand times and meant

it every single time.

the things we have shared, dreams, hopes, fears and still it comes down

to this.

I'm a thing, an evil, souless, disgusting thing, I'm not real, these

feelings are just an echo of a former life when my heart was beating,

my love for her an illusion.

So whats her excuse ?

I stand on her doorstep, it would be simple, a little knock and the

door would open, well, that was then this is now, I'm not invited

anymore.

I'm on the outside.

Even way back in my bad old days I was always on the outside, getting

slapped down for steeping out of line, that was before the attitude

kicked inand then, then it all changed.

Because, if your looking for fun theres death or glory, sod all else.

My name was spoken in scared whispers, talked about in dark back rooms,

here in the darkness I was nothing more than a myth, the demon who

demons feared, the man that men feared until I saw her for the first

time, I remember it as if it was yesterday.

The way she moved, so predatory, smooth, her smile that hid the weight

of the world but still shined like the brightest star in the heavens,

she was glowing, ( Effulgent, I hear a whisper in the back of my mind

).

I was there to kill her.

I was going to swim in her blood, do the bloody backstroke in it, I

promised myself that I would drain her of life and leave her wretched

body in the gutter, I was never one who dragged it out, that was always

his thing, the one who taught me.

He had fun with the torture, play little games until he was bored and

then he would end it, but he didn't get bored very easily, me, it was

always get in, kill, get out, no big deal, she was different though, I

wanted to dance all night with her becuase she didn't seem like the

type to give up easy or beg for her life, I would have had a whole lot

of fun.

All the plans and schemes, well, they got shot to shit didn't they ?

the real nightmare began when I realised I was in love with her.

I thought that this could be it, my way out of the darkness but no.

I wasn't good enough, never good enough for her or her friends so I was

forced back, back into the drakness, where the voices were waiting,

taunting me for trying to be a real boy again, that I've had my chance

at life, I can't have a second one.

She left me beaten and bloody more times than I care to recall but if

that's what it takes for her to feel again, to be the woman I fell in

love with then so be it.

So this is life ? or something like it.

Yeah, bitch will get what she deserves and she deserves to be loved, to

be happy, to be able to love again, let people in, she can never get it

through that stubborn head of hers that she doesn't always have to go

it alone, life of the chosen few, you can save the world one life at a

time but still feel insignificant.

Found the spark I did, went to great lengths, very private, very

personal, I let it burn, let it purge the sins from my flesh.

I' ll face my fate whatever it may be, if I go out with a bang or a

whimper really doesn't matter to me anymore, not now.

She said " I love you "

I don't believe it, don't believe her but still, it's nice to hear her

say it.

I can finally feel it inside, my soul, bit worse for lack of use but

it's there, I don't have to die as a monster but on my feet as a man,

the man who loved her, who has been forgiven for all I've done.

The fights over now, we have lost so much but gained more than we ever

hoped but I think I'll stick around and see how the show ends, who

would have ever thought that it would be me, out of everyone, I would

be the hero this time, even though I have to pay a high price.

She said she loves me, it's a lie, I know that but it makes it all

worthwhile.

And now as I burn from the inside out, slowly becoming only dust in the

wind, I think.

So, this is life or something like it.

In the remains of his life she finds what she never expected,

scribbled in by his own hand, words he found inside of himself that

made him more than he ever thought he could be.

A thousand times he said " I love you " and sometimes it was easier to

imagine it was all a lie, she knows, probably always did,she was wrong

to deny his feelings from him, wrong to deny her own feelings.

I hear her call my name on the wind

I see her eyes in the stars

her scent surounds my fallen body

breathes life into my soul.

I call her name with no reply

a guiding light in the darkness I have become

and yet she is gone

so far, so close.

the silence I speak

and in shadows I hide

shadows of the man I used to be

an empty shell, a ghost to all.

sense give way to the pain she caused

the lies and anger

hatred and rage

they live inside, the demon waits.

and they are all here

them, her, it, me

they tell me, all tell me

go to hell.

I hear her cry what what I've done

the tears fall cold on lifeless skin

I feel without feeling

love without being loved.

what it takes to be a man

and when to say I'm wrong

to be the love she never had

from the ashes of my soul.

The wind blows gently on the ashes of the fallen, there's nothing left

of him except of few flecks of dust and the words he left behind, so

this is what it takes to be the man who she could love, to be the one

she could forgive and she remembers him ask her in desperation, tears

rolling down his face.

Can we rest now ?

He has his wish at last.

Sonnet for a Slayer

(with credit and thanks to Grace O'Malley)...

You tell me that I cannot love because I have no soul.

I have no pulse, no breath, no warmth, and no eternal rest.

It's as you say: I have no soul, and cannot love at all.

Since we are so different, then your slaying's truly blessed.

I think you must believe this, in order to survive:

I'm an evil, soulless monster, like all others of my kind.

You really aren't a killer, since the undead aren't alive.

So anything you choose to do is fully justified.

But when you were flung from heaven, I was there to break your fall.

You gorge on my unbeating heart and let me taste your blood.

You give my unlife meaning, while I cushion you from hell.

So it scorches me like sunlight that you must deny our love.

/A soul is over-rated as the source of all that's good.

/You won't believe I love you, but we both know you could.

Yet Another "Sonnet from Spike"...

...with thanks and praise to Cynthia Arrow

I bear a love for thee that shall not fade,

Nor dim though sense extinguised every fire.

Love's hammer beat my anvil to a wire

Of purest love, of thinnest pride displayed.

One word of thine could be enough to aid

Me on my plight to live with this desire,

If only thy sweet love didst not require

A swift denial of every vow I've made.

I swore that I would be the strongest man

On earth, but now my body's made debris.

I said that I would never shed a tear,

But places where no hope shall run, tears can.

Though I without a heart wished to be free

I find my throbbing heart is prisoner here.

To Buffy Anne...

(Blank page)...

I love you more than I can ever explain...

William...

Crushed...(again)...

Ok...so the Slayer was not impressed with my little Dru sacrifice attempt...

Tomorrow and tomorrow and...you get the picture...immortality creeps in his petty pace from day to day...Until the last syllable of recorded time...

Bummer...

Well, then...How about a bot?...

But now is the Winter of my Discontent made glorious...April... by the "daughter" of Warren...

I Dream of Buffies...

I dreamt last night of Buffies...

They all sat in four rows...I was their poetry teacher...

What the hell did I know...

They sneered at me and hooted...As if I were Rupert Giles...

All of them now laughing at me...Right on down the aisles...

I dreamt last night of Buffies...

Who did not like me well...

They laughed at me and hooted...They truly gave me hell

I dreamt last night of Buffies...

I looked for my shotgun...

They just laughed more and hooted...

All of them but one...

"I Know Where I'm Going"

Song implanted in BR's memory...

Gift to BR courtesy Amelia Walthrop...(Spike's BR verse Mum) and good old

Warren...

I know where I'm goin'

and I know who's goin' with me

I know who I love

and my dear knows who I'll marry.

I have stockings of silk

and shoes of bright green leather

Combs to buckle my hair

and a ring for every finger

O' feather beds are soft

and painted rooms are bonnie

But I would give them all

for my handsome winsome Johnny

Some say that he's poor,

but I say that he's bonnie

Fairest of them all

is my handsome winsome Johnny.

(I must admit this pic Will put with the song in our album is cute...BR thought...Though I wish he'd found one of me in something a leetle more...

"Do you like that one?...Dawn asked..."I told Will it was sweet...He wasn't sure...

But I told him you'd prefer it to some fancy dress thing..."

Umm..."Yeah...It's great...Just perfect..."

Well, it really is cute..)

ECHOES

(by Eiland...With BR verse modifications and our heartfelt thanks...)

There is silence for a moment, then I hear the tone of the phone ringing on

the other end of the line.

The telephone was a curiosity for the rich when Dru turned me. It wasn't

until after Peaches got his soul and Darla had abandoned us in disgust that I

actually used one. . .handy gadget, it is. Letters are fine for a lot of

things, but being able to hear the voice of the person you're communicating

with can give you a world of information that words on a piece of paper never

will.

I hear the phone on the other end ringing for the third time, then comes the

click. I close my eyes again and just listen.

"Hi, you've reached the Summers residence. No one's here right now-"

Buffy's voice is calm, remarkably so considering when she made this recording.

Joyce's voice used to be there, and stayed there until two days after she

died. I know this because when I first heard the news, I called Buffy. The

machine picked up and I heard Joyce's friendly voice asking me to leave a

message. I was about to do so when Buffy picked up the receiver and said,

"Hello?" in a dead voice that made me shudder to hear it. I broke the

connection and went into a lengthy brood that would have impressed Angel before

I got my nerve together to leave flowers for Joyce. . .that didn't go well at

all. When I called again, after the whole fiasco with the Niblet and the spell

to try to bring Joyce back, Joyce's voice had been replaced by Buffy's. . .in a

way, I felt I had missed my chance to say goodbye to her. Joyce was all right:

she would have taken my bloody head off in an instant if she thought I was a

real threat to Buffy, but she treated me with respect. . .can't ask for more

than that, really.

". . .but if you leave your name and number, Dawn or I will get back to you as

soon as we can. Thanks for ca-"

I hang up the receiver. I know very well how that machine works: lurking

around that house as much as I did before Buffy caught on to what I was up to

let me figure out a lot of things. Hang up the phone before the message ends,

and nothing is picked up by the recorder. . .not even the click of the

connection being broken. I could do this a thousand times, and as long as no

one picks up on the other end, there will be no record of what I had done,

unless the neighbors complain about the incessantly ringing phone.

I press the redial button for the fifteenth time: another great invention.

Phones have gone from cranks to dials to buttons, and now I can repeat this

torture I have devised for myself by the simple actions of pressing the redial

button and then hanging up when the time comes. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The click comes again, and as Buffy begins to speak, I concentrate on the

sound of her voice, remembering what it sounded like when she or BR were happy (I was

deeply pissed off at Red for a while after that spell fiasco a while back, but

lately I've been thinking about how her voice sounded under its influence. . .BR's I realize

now...), and when she...they... was...were... so angry that I would swear that the walls would

come down from the sharpness of her tone. That quiver in her voice when she

was on the edge, but desperately trying to hold on. I listen, then break the

connection again.

I want to drop the receiver once and for all and find a dark corner to hide in

until the others come for me, so that I can remember their Buffy and mine with a bit more

dignity than I've shown in the last few hours. Rupert had to drag me away from the scene. . .daylight was approaching and I would have been dust rather quickly if he hadn't. I wasn't consciously committing suicide-I just didn't want to leave that place, because it would be

admitting that she...both had died there. Pointless and irrational. Death does that

to you.

I press the redial button again, and this time I think of Buffy's eyes as I

listen. Everything about her in both her forms was glorious (arrgh, can't I think of a better

word than that for her right now? No, it fits. . .associations with deceased

hellbitches aside), but her eyes were the center of her being: pools of green

electricity that shouted to the world what she was thinking. I could learn

more from a single glance from my Buffies than I could from listening to most people

for decades, if not centuries. I knew her, knew her too damned well, and I had

to watch as my taunting to her last year came true in the most agonizing way

possible. . .a fitting punishment for me.

Click. Wait. Press the button. Wait. Listen. This time, I try to remember

how she smelled. The tang of perspiration after she tore through a small crowd

of vampires and tured back to me with a disgusted expression. The scent I

associated with the rare moments when she was content in my presence. . .it

always reminded me of cinnamon and roses. The faintly acrid smell when she was

staring at me in a towering rage. . .I was quite familiar with that one. The

faintly musky scent as she looked at me with resignation as we prepared for the

final battle-

I hang up the receiver forcefully, and I begin to cry. Hardly the first time

I've ever done that. . .there were times when I despaired of finding a cure for

Drusilla, and there was nothing nearby to kill to let the tension out. . .a

good long cry always did the trick. Of course, anyone who saw me doing it was

not going to be long for this world. . .at least until this damned chip screwed

up my unlife. These days, I just made sure that no one would see me-

"Spike."

Slowly, I raise my head, and Tara is there, looking at me with an expression

that I can not decipher. I don't know her as well as the others. . .she is

quiet and seems to seek out the shadows that Red and the others cast, to hide

behind. I saw what Glory did to her hand, and knew that until she lost her

marbles, she had remained as silent as I had with death and madness staring her

in the eye. Hard not to respect that, even in someone who had no particular

reason to like me much.

She looks at me with sad eyes, then responds, "I went back to get some clothes

for Dawnie. . .I heard the phone, Spike." She inclines her head at the phone

next to me, then elaborates, "I didn't want to pick up, in case it was someone

who didn't know me who wanted to leave a personal message. I listened through

three cycles, Spike. . .I know what you were doing."

A lie comes unbidden to my lips, but I can not bring myself to utter the

words. I blink hard, wishing that I could summon one of my old rages and snarl

at Tara for intruding on my grief and compulsive self-torture. I shake my head

and whisper, "I suppose that you'll tell all of the others what I've been up

to. . .doubt it will surprise any of them."

Tara sighs, then walks over to sit next to me on the couch. We both sit

silently as the seconds tick by, then she turns to me and replies, "Spike. .

.my mother died three and a half years ago, after a long, lingering illness.

You've seen the rest of my family, so it probably won't shock you to hear that

I was much closer to her than I was to any of them.."

I nod, and Tara continues, "After she died, I withdrew from just about

everything. Dad and Donnie were actually decent to me during that time, but

nothing helped. Then one day, I remembered a tape that I had of her reading

some old stories about witchcraft to me. It was the only remaining recording

of her voice. I found that tape, and I played it over and over, until it

started to sound scratchy from use. I didn't care. I would have listened to

that tape over and over forever, but after two months my father caught me

listening to it just as Mom was describing a particularly arcane ritual."

I frown, guessing what probably happened next. Tara nods and elaborates, "He

took the tape out of the player, and scolded me for engaging in idolatry and

wickedness. 'The dead are the dead, Tara,' he told me, 'and dwelling on them

can only lead to evil. . .just like witchcraft.' He took the tape and tossed

it into the basement furnace, and left me down there, sobbing."

My expression tightens, and Tara sees it and gives me the ghost of an

appreciative look before concluding, "It was right there that I knew I had to

leave that place. I made plans, left, and never looked back until they showed

up here wanting to drag me home."

I nod again, and Tara meets my eyes with a bit more force than I am used to

seeing there. She sighs and comments, "Spike. . .even if you end up being a

good guy, I doubt we're ever going to have too much in common. You've spent

too much of your existence trying to hurt people, including people I love more

than anyone else in the world." She pauses, then gestures at the phone and

adds, "But this. . .this I understand, Spike. Buffy...Both of them...was worth loving,

and the fact that you realized that, even as late as you did, means something to me."

She stands up, then concludes, "I'm going back to the Summers' house, and I'll

take the tape out: someone might record over it, and they might regret it

later if they do. I'll keep it safe in case anyone wants it."

I sit silently, stunned, and Tara takes my silence as assent as she turns to

go. I shake off my lethargy and call out, "Tara."

She turns back to me, and I concentrate on keeping my composure as I whisper,

"Would you let the others know. . .I wish I could be there for Buffy."

She looks at me sadly and replies, "They know, Spike. . .they know." Shaking

her head, she walks away and slips quietly out of the front door. I wait a

moment, then begin to cry again. . .in gladness that Tara will be saving a

small part of both Buffies, and in despair over that being all that is left of her. I

glance at the clock: the time before I can leave to join the others will seem

endless. Helplessly, I wait and remember her.

They were one, after all...

With thanks and credit to

M. Scott Eiland

The Lost Bird...

There is no home for the lost bird...

Caught up by storm, driven from home...

Forever to fly and seek...

Lost to his world...Lost in yours...

No spot on any branch...

Forever to fly and seek...

For the Repose of my Gentle Wife's Soul...

At the Greenwood crypt, May 2001...

Dear Joyce, take pity on her, I know your gentle heart will welcome her as it did me...Help me to have the strength to keep your girls safe and my pledge intact...

Mum, Amelia, Phil...hold her close and take her as yours...Forgive your son and brother his weakness and failure and help him now to have the strength to stay on the course his dearest wife has set for him and at last find his way back...

Oh sweet Jesus, my mother swore your mercy was infinite...Take the soul of my sweet wife and keep it safe...Take pity on my lost soul, show me the way to redemption whatever sorrow or burden I must bear, I will bear it...However long it may take...

And if you can find it in your heart...When the time has come...Open the gates of heaven for my Rebecca and me...

My Redemption...

Think of Buffy...on a quiet day...after having trouble with me for a

week...But somehow she's avoided staking me...And on that day, when she has

just a few minutes...She wonders...Spike does seem to have some humanity left

in him...What if I tried to help him a little?...Would there be any chance for

him?...Maybe?...

That's Buffy Rebecca...My redemption...

Memo:

From: Dr. W.S. Walthrop

To: Dr. W.T. Mears

Dear Warren,

The following contains a few thoughts regarding our mission statement...

Mission Statement of W/S Bionetics, Inc...

Bionetics...The Wave of The Future...

Our mission, Bionetics, is the Wave of the Future...

By keeping our eyes firmly planted on the future...If we follow through to our proper course, holding firmly to our ideals...Overcoming the obstacles blocking our way...To

the bright future our products can offer...to those in sore need...

Folks...lets to it...We shall overcome...

The Battle of the Sunnydale Mall...

Twas on a Saturday night...In 2001...The century barely just now begun...

Oh remember that famous night and year...

I believe that it was moonless and clear...

Buffy Rebecca her sister's place did take...

Me...Rather busy...Avoiding angry Buffy's stake...

Both sisters exposed to mighty Glory's wiles...

So much for the plans of one Rupert Giles...

The Brethren were massing at the rear of the Mall...

Lucky the Knights were always on call...

Their glorious Emperor was there in their midst...

Boy, his ancestor Gratian gave Glory the fits...

With them stood Tara and dear Willow too...

And scattered around was the rest of Buf's crew...

Good fellow Xander was posted to Dawn...

Anya stood with him...Thro she wished he were gone...

Safely away...As she feared for him too...

The only sane person in this Goddamn crew...

Then did pissed-off Glory manifest herself...

Leaving brother Benedictus stuck on the shelf...

She wore her bright armor...She gathered her crew...

A motley collection...Freaks fit for the zoo...

Then from the other end of the Mall...We all looked to see come charge down the hall...

In armor, dear Buffy...By that, I mean Sis...With Knights at her elbow...Quoth Glory...

"What's this?..."

"Two sisters I see...What is one my Key?..."

Dreg her little minion...Did crane to see...

"My lady...It's that one...I'm sure it must be..."

And pointed at Buffy Rebecca did he...

Lo, my Buffy Rebecca stood back to the wall...

Looked pretty bad...We'd run out of hall...

I dropped down behind her...

I feared what would ensue...

What the dangerous cable run to her would do...

I cried so to see her...Hurt bad she was too...

But she begged me prove to her that my heart was true...

I leggo the cable and ran up to Dawn...

Whom the Knights had decided to send to Fairlawn...

And Buffy Rebecca faced Glory alone...

It looked likely our Cause would be soon overthrown...

For dread Glory had guessed that her Key was dear Dawn...

And no longer viewed BR as more than a pawn...

But she was too weak to march on...Without neural feed...

And only my BR was there for her need...

She grabbed my dear BR...And plunged hands in her head...

Then gave out a cry that would wake up the dead...

She glowed like a lobster...She split right in two...

Her brother and Glory...Now both in view...

They flopped down like flounders...It seemed they were dead...

But it only was Glory not right in the head...

I ran down to my BR...

Warren stood by her head...

She looked oh so awful...

I thought she was dead...

But it merely was lightening gone right thru her head...

We woke up my BR...She gave us a grin...

God can my girl take it right on the chin...

She really was hurting...And no help was her Sis...

Who came by to tell us...She was still pissed...

(Censored at the request of -Walthrop)

Warren did check her...All's well down below...

But boy did that Glory give her quite a blow...

We settled with Buffy...Got BR to the crypt...

Stuffed her with painkillers...As her skin was ripped...

Her brain had a problem...We did not know...

The lightening had damaged her neural net flow...

But though we did lose her...I just got her back...

Thanks to dear Buffy...Who picked up the nack...

Of calling her "Sister" while they were both dead...

And holding dear BR's memories in her head...

Well that is the story of the Battle of the Mall...

When BR met Glory in the corridor hall...

("Ummn..." said Willow...BR waiting for her 'honest' opinion of her William's brilliant tributary epic...

"You realize it's for our children..." BR told her...Noting Willow seemed slow to gather words of proper praise..."

"Ah...Very Seussian...They'll love it, I'm sure..."

She had to think about it...BR thought...

Well...Willow was always a computer person...)

More...

Weird Sisters

One robot, one Slayer, one artificial too

Two identical...One little...

My Summers' girl crew...

All sitting in their living room

Now talking of Dru...

And all three care about me...

Darla At Bat...

There was no joy in Sunnydale for the evil team that day...

My Rebecca had knocked them flat...For the whole month of May...

And though BR was dead now, Buffy Anne still held the sway...

But sadly thing were changin' cause dear old Hank was on his way...

That moron (censored by Mrs. Summers-Walthrop) fell in Drusilla's hands while stopping by LA...

Just the tool ole Darla needed to begin to get her way...

Dru got him good and vamped...Darla took him now in hand...

Her evil plans for Buf and Dawn she saw begin to land...

For dear Buf saw only Daddy when he came through the door...

Otherwise she surely would have staked him to the floor...

The rest of us were at our crypt...Trying hard to call her sis...

Our beloved Buffy Rebecca...Who was sorely missed...

Back at the Summers...Darla in disguise...

Had lured our dearest Summers girls...Whom she secretly despised...

To a certain "restaurant"...Where they were to meet their doom...

And where Drusilla waited...My psycho friend and loon...

But the vamps there had their own ideas and these now began to spawn...

Poor Dru soon finding herself friendless and forlorn...

While Buffy sensed with Slayer sight that something here was wrong...

My BR's soul alerted us while we were at the crypt...

That something bad was happening...Evil had Buf in its grip...

We raced to the Summers' home to find that they had gone...

Then good old Giles called us...He'd just seen Buf and Dawn...

Headed to a restaurant on the other side of town...

Both girls looking well enough...Each one in a gown...

We now drove out like maniacs in hope of staying Fate...

Yet all of us somehow knew that we would be too late...

For Darla would not be denied...She'd have her devil's due...

And with Hank in her power our Buf soon was overthrew...

("Overthrew?..." BR asked...)

Her demon sis came up from Hell...Now Buf was a vamp too...

But our BR had joined her...So there was still a chance...

Of keeping down the evil one and Buffy's soul intact...

She turned on Darla and on Dru...Who shook with dread and fled...

In fear of the two human souls that stayed within Buf's head...

We came into the restaurant...And there we found our Giles...

Who told us of these sad events...And of Dawn caught in Dru's wiles...

We found poor Dawn...All bloodied out...They'd sucked on her awhiles...

But somehow she was still alive...So it occurred to Giles...

That good old Benedictus might...Help thwart Darla's guiles...

Then finding poor vamped Hank as well...

Giles and I took him...

and sent him ("Spike, this is still my father you are talking about...") Safely home...

Buf was wandering all about...With BR in her head...

She'd killed a lass and now...Wished she was fully dead...

But BR got her to go on...And led her to our crypt...

Where I did meet them and dear Willow who used a curse of the Egypt...

To hold dear Buffy's demon down...Get her safely to LA...

Where in the vaults of Wolfram-Hart, the cure for her did lay...

And there I put Lilah Morgan in thrall to us that day...

And with her now compliant help we worked to get our way...

Willow and I entered Wolfram-Hart...Red held them all at bay...

You should have seen her...She was great...

And really made them pay...

Now did our dear Warren enter thus the fray...

And brought in a new robot...Well BR's body I must say...

But April's brain was in there...And as BA gave us sway...

Over Darla and Drusilla...Who now got in our way...

But Buffy-April threw them all about...And Willow got to say...

The spell that sent demon Buf to hell and kept our Buf here to stay...

But my BR she could not stay...For Buf she must give way...

Thro now I know that she is soul and not simply a gleam...

In my mind's eye...No...No...Say I...And so I can still dream...

So Darla failed and Dru has fled...Till we catch up to them...

And Wolfram-Hart is all apart and BR's gone again...

But I have hope...Now I can cope...Till she comes back...Till then...

now I'll stop my pen...

Thanksgiving...

Dear Red,

Thanks...

You know what I mean...

Yours affectionately,

William S. Walthrop.

(Geesh...Willow thought...Restore his wife's soul for him and this is what I get?...

I mean English understatement is all well and good, but...

"It's a nice note..." Tara said... "I think he's just...Shy...After all our past history with him and all...")

Thanksgiving...II

Dear Buffy,

Nice to have you home...And thanks...

You know what I mean...

Yours affectionately,

William

("No..." Buffy firmly told herself... "There is no hidden meaning here...He's just grateful..."

God I have to get rid of these romantic memories from BR...)

Thanksgiving...III

To Miss Dawn Summers,

We are so glad to have you back...

We really were afraid...

We knew though that you'd have the knack...

Of coming through unscathed...

(Goofy...Still, I rate a rhyme...Dawn thought, rather pleased...

Where's mine?...BR thought...)

The Love Song of William Soames Walthrop...

She is there...Out there somewhere...Drifting in eternity...

Waiting for me...Straining to hear...

My desparate plea...

She is not lost...No, never...

I, rather...Am found...

Eternity is ours...

("Could we get that inscribed on my wedding ring?..." BR asked him...

The whole thing...A leetle difficult, darling...

"The last line, Spike...Come on...")

Case Report:Proposal

Rebecca Walthrop

Submitted for extra credit to Psych 303: Studies in Deviant Behaviors...

Subject A: A young male in his thirties

Summary:

Subject A has a notable history of criminal violence, committed while undergoing severe life changes, including a condition promoting severe aggressive behavior...Subject A is currently receiving successful treatment by means of an implanted behavioral modification chip and a unique form of nutritional therapy...An newly established settled home life appears to have played a major role as well in reinforcing more acceptable behavior...

Under the influence of the above mentioned therapies, Subject A has shown an increasingly promising capacity for surmounting his previous negative behaviors...One interesting development has been the indication of one or more multiple personalities...It appears under the influence of therapy, the less aggressive, and possibly original, personality has become dominant...

Proposal:

It is proposed that Subject A be studied for the course of this semester with an eye to charting his progress under therapy...

Scrawled across draft copy...

"Subject A" gives his reluctant approval, dear...But still thinks Psychology is a crock...

Hmmn...This would make a nice conceptual poem, sort of...Make a copy for me, would you?...

Will...

PS... "Thirties?"...I stopped aging at 22, you know...Despite my carefully cultivated air of maturity...

Scrawled across copy left for WW...

Do you want people to know it's you, honey?...I guess your office staff would get a kick out of it...

CV of Dr. William Soames Walthrop, W/S Bionetics, Inc...

Prepared for a meeting with members of the Associated European Prothetics Group, Glasgow, Scotland, June 2001...

Educated at Cambridge University, Great Britain, Dr. William Soames Walthrop is a partner in one of the world's foremost cybernetic prothetic corporations and one of the developers of the bionetic artificial organ system...Based on a multipurpose general component, the bionetic "cell" these organ systems can be adapted for almost any purpose in the body, much like the living stem cell, and allowing for enormously enhanced adjustment to suit the individual needs of the user...

One might indeed call Bionetics...The Wave of the Future...

After graduation from Cambridge Dr. Walthrop moved to California and began work as an assistant to Dr. Warren Mears, at the time, chief of bionetic research and development at Xortox Labs, Sunnydale, California...

Following their time at Xortox, Dr. Walthrop and Dr. Mears formed a partnership to create W/S Bionetics, Inc...A cybernetics firm specializing in bionetic research...Dedicated to the development of artificial organs and limbs for human use...

("Well?..." Spike asked her...BR frowned...Hmmn...Weell...Not exactly a lie, most of it...In fact only the "graduated from Cambridge" was really a lie...And a necessary one...I guess...And the Council has produced enough documents to back it up if anyone checks...)

Very Dark Lady...

Billowing out over the sea cliffs...Her black dress hanging in the air...

She rears up to be greeted...By Death herself...

The sun rises to show her...Gone...Immortal...

Free...

(Hmmn... "I'm 'Death herself'?..." BR asked him...

Allusion...It's an allusion, dear...To the Slayers' Gift...See...

"I know what an allusion is, Spike..." she told him...)

Buffies Deux...

Two Buffies strode in a yellow wood and came to a fork in the road...

One chose the right, the other left...

The Niblett...

set of course in that series of your author's wild imaginings known as the 'Normal' Bverse...

("Bverse?..." Buffy Rebecca eyed William as she read... "What's that?...Is that what I think it is?..."

Buffyverse, dear...

"Oh..."

Wait a minute... "Stories about my sis?...You've written stories about my sis?...And you?..."

Ummn...Well...You being Buffy too, dear...

"They're really about you..." a bright smile...

"If I read hot sex between you and my twin, you are so beyond Undead..." she grimly fired up the computer...)

On an LA weeknight, oh tres dreary...Pondered I, weak and weary...

Just from the battle, besmirched with gore...Dragging my limbs along the floor...

Heard I soft familiar laughing...And a gentle but steady tapping...Rapping on my new apartment door...

"Tis Illyria or Gunn...Or perhaps Angel...To summon me to fight once more...Bugger that, I'll do no more..."

Only this and nothing more...

To said door went I, unclasping...Turning deadbolt with groaning rasping...Rasping?...From my brand-new door?...

Rates a memo to building super sure...

Only this and nothing more...

Flung I the door with certain caution...As in my own blood I was sloshing...

After all, just fought demons galore...

Could be that there was one more...

"Not a thing..." said I, looking...Searchin' round my new apartment door...

Quoth the Niblett... "Bout time you opened the door..."

"Nibs?..." said I, with cheek atremblin'...Lookin' at her glaring, teenaged form...

"What the hell?..." She entered coolly...Glancing round, closing the door...

"Hey, Spike...Or should I say William?...Walthrop, wasn't it your name before?..."

Researched my past thought I, calming...

Only this and nothing more...Hey?...

"Is Buffy with you?...Is she comin'...?"

Quoth the Niblett... "Nevermore..."

"Bloody Christ?...What the hell is this?...Did she send you to piss on me, Niblett?..."

"Tell me, where is Buffy...Is she in LA?...Is she comin'...?..."

Quoth the Niblett... "Nevermore..."

She took a seat and eyed me coolly...As dread crept on me unruly...

"Tell me, Niblett...Tell me truly...As an old friend...Well, in those long-lost times before...When will I see her?..."

"Nevermore..."

"Now, you ruddy well listen, you little fiend from Hades!...I don't know who put you up to this, Harris maybes...But I want an answer so I'll ask once more!...Where the goddamn's your sister...?"

"You mean the one you abandoned?...For evermore...The one who loved you?...And did before?..."

"Before...?"

"When she was the Slayer in 1880, moron...My broken-hearted sis' gone beneath the floor...Cicely that was heretofore..."

"Cicely...?"

"Cicely..." she nodded...Pausing, then said no more...

"Cicely...A Slayer?...But...Nibs, how can you...?"

"The Council's records prove it...Ask Giles to be sure..."

"As to the rest...She is gone and there's no more..."

"Buffy was Cicely?...She truly loved me?...And now has gone to that distant shore...?"

Quoth the Niblett, rising... "That's for sure..."

"But how..." "Despairing of seeing you, making amends...Knowing now what had happened to you before..."

That's what did it, nothing more...

"Nibs!..." screamed I, in horror reeling...But from current pain would've climbed the ceiling...

"Say a word of comfort...Fore you go out my door...Say I'll yet behold the Buffy I adore..."

"Have you been listenin'?...Nevermore..."

"So she learned she was my Cicely...Of that you're sure?...Then of grief she died?...You said before...That was it and nothing more?..."

Quoth the Niblett... "That's it, sure..."

Oh...she paused...And just one thing more...

"She'd've lived if you'd've come...Of that we're sure...But you didn't trust her love, so..." Buffy burst right through my door...

"Dawn!...Enough already!...Hurt my Will no more!...Ouch!..." she stared at my bruises...

Buffy?...stared I back..."Cicely, too...?" Yeah...she nodded... "That part's true..." Frowning... "Sorry, had to be sure...You know you took your time to say 'how-de-do'..."

Feebly I... "Well, you did too..." As she hugged me...Wincing...At my apartment door...

And from me parted...Nevermore...

(Hmmn...BR eyed her waiting Walthrop...Methinks I've heard this poem before...

But of that...Eyeing his face so anxious...Well, just love and think no more...

"Just great, babe...Like your others before..." )


	2. Chapter 2

From the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG13

Archived at the Buffy Rebecca verse, .com...

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Summary: Poems, Essays from the works of William Soames Walthrop, aka Spike...in the Buffy Rebecca verse...

Additional contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcome...

Book the Second...

William Walthrop's Christmas Carol...

Playmain theme...Grandma Got Runover by a Reindeer...

Angelis was dead...To begin with...

You must believe that Angelis was dead or there can be nothing wonderful in the story I am about to relate...

"Now don't forget, Spike..." Xander told him as he, Anya, and Dawn walked him back to his crypt...Christmas Eve...

"We'll be picking you up for Christmas dinner at noon...And expect your best behavior..."

You can help me string popcorn garlands for the tree, Spike...Dawn told him happily...

Now that you're our good friend and all...A noble, reformed vampire...she noted...Who did so much to help my sis with Glory and all...

And protected me all summer...

And possible candidate to be my sis' beau...Someday...When she makes up her mind about you...

"Right..." Spike sighed...

Spike?...Dawn frowned...

Not regressing on us, are you?...You know how disappointed we'd be if you regressed...she noted...

And sis'd be on your tail in a hot minute...With Mr. Pointy at the ready...

"No, no..." he smiled... "Can't wait for tomorrow...Grateful for the kindness and all that..."

Good...Dawn kissed him on the forehead...Xander shook hands...

"Buffy will be Patrolling tonight, right?..." he asked...

She hasn't been by in a week...he noted...

Ever since old Soldier-boy sent her that letter from Central America...

"Not that I'd give her any trouble about that..." he assured Dawn...Who looked carefully at him...

Later on...Dawn noted...You can keep her company...

Oh...Great...he noted...

They wished him a merry Christmas and left him...

Geesch...he thought...They could have let me stay around until Buf got home from college...

After all it's Christmas Eve...And night-time...

And here I am...Alone again in the crypt...Might as well not even be reformed for all the change it's made...

What a life...Dancing on the Slayer's leash...he thought...

Still...It is Buffy's leash...

He turned on the telly...

"Can't anyone tell me what Christmas is all about?..." Charlie Brown cried...

"Sure, Charlie Brown..." Linus told him... "I can tell you what Christmas is all about..."

"Lights, please..."

"Hi there, Spike..." Angelis' head appeared on the telly screen...Smiling coldly...

Spike jumped...

Whoa...

It had vanished and Linus was back...

Dream...Just a dream, passed out for a sec...

Probably that chicken Dawn cooked tonight...Should never eat Dawn's cooking before having a bag of blood...he noted...

Hmmn...Might as well catch a few night winks until Buf comes for Patrol...

If she comes...

He got up and paused by a plaque dedicated to some long-forgotten member of a long-defunct family...

Hmmn...Strange...

Could swear I heard something from inside there...

Like someone banging on a coffin...

He turned...And jumped...

Angelis...And definitely Angelis, not Angel, he somehow knew...

Sitting in his favorite chair...A gift from Dawn...

"Grandson..." Angelis nodded...

Spike tried to touch him and the hand went through...

"Ow!...Watch that, boy!..." Angelis glared at him...

Hurts if you're not ready for it...he noted...

"Angelis?...It is you, isn't it?..."

"No, it's Barnabas Collins...you dolt...Of course it's me, you worthless reanimated poet..."

Or should I say...Buffy Summers' reanimated whipping boy...You disgrace to the vampiral race, you...

I've been watching you...From limbo...For quite a while...And I've come to help you...

"Very kind of you...Knew there must have been some good in you, Angelis...You're Angel's counterpart after all..." Spike noted...

Look, boy...If you're gonna insult me...Angelis frowned...

I am your grandsire, after all...

Sorry, granddad...Go on...

"It's at this time of year I suffer most of all..." Angelis whined...Hanukkah, Ramadan, Christmas, now this dratted Kwanza too...

"Humanity desperately trying to make the world a better place...Struggling to treat their fellow creatures with a modicum of kindness and sympathy..."

"When I think of the evil I could be doing right now...Murdering children in their beds...Leaving beloved relatives under the tree...In transformed state, even...Filling stockings with vital organs..."

Hmmn...Dru'd love that...Spike noted...

"But I had to waste my one precious chance to return on that fool Slayer and her friends..."

He always did blame the victim...Whining twit...Spike thought...

But you grandson...Have a chance to avoid my fate...

God knows I'd never waste months slowly building up to killing Giles' girlfriend...Spike thought...And some girl Buffy barely knew...

"You will be visited...By three demons..." Angelis noted...

"Don't tell me...It's gotta be either Moe, Larry, and Curly or Warren, Andrew, and Jonathan..."

"Maybe some other time..." Spike told him politely...

Angelis frowned...

"Without their help, you cannot hope to shun the path that morosely brooding soulful counterpart of mine treads..."

Hmmn...Food for thought there, Spike noted...

"Expect the first...When your alarm rings at one..."

One?...AM?...

"The second at two..."

"And the third...Whenever it feels like coming..." Angelis grinned...

Great...So much for Christmas Eve patrol with my Slayer...Spike thought...

When she's sure to be in...A sympathetic and kindly mood...

Thanks, granddad...Spike glared...

"Don't mention it..." Angelis sneered...

Spike looked at him...

"So...Aren't you leaving?..."

When I damn well feel like it...Angelis told him, leaning back in the chair...

I don't get to project out of limbo very often, you know...

Boring place, limbo...he began...

"Well...It was nice seeing you again, grand-dad..." Spike noted, whipping a stake into Angelis' chest...Which passed harmlessly through to the chair cushion...

Angelis glared at him...I'm an astral projection, moron, not a vampire...

"Do you think I'd waste a minute with you if I had regained my old form?..."

As I was saying...Limbo's a boring kind of place, boy...Nothing to do, empty whiteness...Lots of whining human souls in horror over what their demon counterparts are doing...

Which does relieve the tedium for a little while, but then it just grates on the nerves...

By the way, Dru's human soul sends her best...Sorry she couldn't stop her demon back then...

Boring girl, really...Always praying for my soul, her soul, your soul, everybody's soul...

And still the same trusting idiot...Believes me every time I tell her I want her prayers for my redemption...

Our Dru's a distinct improvement...

After two hours Angelis finally had to fade out back to limbo...

Hmmn...Spike thought...So what the hell is ole grand-dad up to?...

No doubt he'd like to screw up my reformation...And keep me out of Buffy's panties...

The alarm went off...

What the...Can't be one yet...

A disembodied chuckle...

Dear ole grand-dad...he glared...

The first demon appeared...

The Master...

"Heinrich?...What the hell are you doing here?..." Spike looked at him...

You work for Angelis now?...he grinned...

We're suddenly on a first name basis?...the Master glared...

"I don't "work" for Angelis...I'm his partner..."

Heinrich!...A disembodied holler...

All right, all right...I was demoted after my little failure at the Hellgate...the Master admitted...

One little slip-up...And they never forget...

Well, after all, Angelis was never beaten in a fair fight with Buffy...Spike noted...Whereas you...

"At least I never ended up boot-licking Buffy Summers..." the Master glared...

Gentlemen...You haven't got all night, you know...Again the disembodied voice...

"All right, all right...Well..." the Master sighed... "I'm here to remind you what a truly magnificent killer you once were...And how free your old life was..."

Let me show you...

Let me save you the trouble...Spike interrupted...

But...

"Yeah, yeah...I get it...Dru and me and the mass killings, etc...Yeah it was great, but I'm past all that now...Besides it was getting dull..." Spike noted...

And I've no interest in spending an hour reliving it with the likes of you...he went on...

But...

"Heinrich...You're fired..." the disembodied voice called...

The Master vanished...The alarm rang again...

Two o'clock...

Say...where is Buf, anyway?...Spike wondered...

Course ole grand-dad is probably messing with time...Or at least with my alarm clock...

"Hi, Spike..." Buffy?...said...A rather vicious grin on her face...

Buffy?...Spike looked at her...Kind of scruffy-slut look for Christmas Eve, isn't it?...

Hmmn-hmmn, it's me...she nodded...

"Lets go Patrol..."

Wait a minute...Where did you come from?...

"I just came in...You must have been...Sleeping..." she noted brightly...But still with the vicious grin...

Uh-uh...Right...

Oh well, lets go...Spike told her...

They were at the Summers'...

Sounds of mourning from within...Garlic garlands all over the windows...

"Go on in, Spike..." Buffy grinned at him...

He looked at her and started in...Whang...Barrier?...

Wait a mo...Willow cleared things for me last summer...

Buffy giggled...

"Things are different now..." she laughed...

But come on...I can get us in...

"Willow..." she called from the front yard...

"Wil...low..."

A clearly enthralled Willow peered at an upstairs window...

And opened the window...

"Mistress..." she called softly...

Take me...Now...

"Well...Come on and open the back door, you idiot..." Buffy told her...

You expect us to climb up there?...

"You aren't the Buffy I knew, are you?..." Spike looked at her...

"I'm the Buffy you would have transformed, darling...If you hadn't lost your edge..."

she smiled at him...

Willow opened the door to them...

"Take me...Now?..." she begged Buffy the Vampire...

Later...Things to do, people to see...Buffy told her...

But...

"Go turn Tara into a rat or something..." Buffy commanded...

Come on...she told Spike...

Why not?...he threw up his hands and followed...

Though frankly, grand-dad...If this Buffy is supposed to win me back over to the dark

side, she might try being a little less skanky...

Buffy dead a week...At the hands of her greatest nemesis, William the Bloody...a sad-faced Giles sighed to Xander...And now, this...

Hmmn..."Greatest Nemesis?"...Spike thought, happily...

Still...He looked at Buffy the Vampire...Not a great improvement, I must say...

"Say...Can't they see us?..." he asked

After all, Willow did...

Nope...Buffy told him...We're shadows here...

But...

Oh...Angelis just wanted to mess with your mind back there...That was him doing the Willow...

"Is there anything we can do for her, Giles?..." Xander asked...

Only watch...And hope...Giles noted...

Her Key lifeforce is very strong...Perhaps...She'll survive somehow because of it...

"Dawny?..." Spike looked at Buffy...

She grinned and nodded...

You?...he looked at her...

Moi...she smiled...

But she's still fighting...he noted...

"Only prolonging the agony for them..." Buffy grinned...

She'll be dead in a few days...Then with us...

But come and see what a wonderful world we've made...Or would...Together...she told him...

Sunnydale...A devastated wasteland...

Even for vamps and demons, actually...Spike noted...

Overpopulated with them...And the human populace down to a few hundred...

Naturally the supernaturals much too dim to consider moving to other locales...

Fatally attracted to the Hellmouth's energy...And with so few humans left, fighting savagely amongst themselves...

But Buffy the Vampire seemed pleased...And delighted in showing him the misery the town had been reduced to...

Not really making a strong case, here, grand-dad...Spike noted...

"And here's what would be...Our Palace..." Buffy told him happily...

Large as Dracula's...she noted...

Hmmn...A ruined old mansion...Decrepit and rat-infested...Lovely...

At least Dracula had had some style...A castle in good repair, with all the modern conveniences...

"Can't you see how wonderful it would be, Spike?..." she asked...

And you'd have me...She put on her demon face...

Ummn...he looked at the hideous face...

"What?..." she looked at him...And reverted...

"I always wear my true face when we have sex, Spike...What's the matter?..."

A disembodied sigh...

This had seemed like such a good idea when the Wolfram-Hart people suggested it to him, Angelis noted to himself...

The alarm rang...Spike looked up from his slab...

2:45...Well, the last session had clearly not been working out...

"Hello..." A small, slight, bald man with a death's head face leered at him...

Have I the pleasure of addressing William the Bloody?...

Spike sighed and nodded...

"I am Joseph...Of Wolfram-Hart, Inc..."

And I have come to show you the future you might have...If you fail to rejoin the side of darkness...

"Spike?..." Buffy?...Was hollering from the stairs...

At a home?...Which he somehow knew was his and hers...

He saw himself...Decked out in tweeds, with glasses no less...

"Darling?..." his counterpart called up to Buffy...

Did you call the doctor?...she glared at him...

"Joycee's fever is higher..."

"He said to bring her over if it stays above 101...Otherwise half a child's aspirin..." his counterpart told her...

Dumb doctors...she noted...He should see her now...

"Well...Lets take her over then..."

They'll just send us to the ER...she told him...

"You should've told him to take her now..." she went on...A tad accusing...

I'll call him back, no problem...he replied...

She waved a hand...Oh, don't bother yourself, she told him...

Wouldn't want to have you spend a second away from your precious writing to care for your little daughter...

"She'll be fine, Buffy..." he told her...

But I will call...Right now...he went on...And headed over to the phone...

I have a daughter...With Buffy?...Spike noted happily...

And...My God, it is...It's daylight and the windows are open...

They've found some way to let me live in daylight...

"I thought you said he wouldn't like this future..." Joseph groused to the disembodied Angelis...

Well...I knew I wouldn't care for it...Angelis sheepishly admitted...

See...His disembodied voice went on...I've never really been all that close to Spike...

Honey...Buffy called...

"I'm sorry...You know..."

No problem...his counterpart called...

I should've pressed him in the first place...

Lets see another scene of the future...Joseph muttered grimly...

"So...It's over..." A middle-aged Xander sadly noted to Anya...Likewise middle-aged...

I can't believe it...Both of them gone...

"We always knew it might happen, honey..." Anya hugged him...

And they died together...It's the way they've wanted to go...

"They should never have gone into this fight...They should have left it to the new Slayer..."

Xander noted angrily...On the edge of tears, clearly...

They never could accept the idea of getting too old to be the Slayer and her partner...Anya pointed out...

But thank God they weren't transformed or cursed...And the fight was won...

Hmmn...Spike looked at them...So...

We're dead...Buffy and I...

He looked at Joseph...Who grinned...

"Yes...Dead...No Immortality for you in this future, William..."

On Earth, you mean...Spike noted...

Well...Of...course...Joseph was hesitant...

Willow...A bit hefty and round-faced in her middle-age, knocked...Entered at Anya's call...And rushed to embrace the now openly sobbing Xander...

"They're together, Xander...I'm sure of it...In Heaven..."

Will's redemption was a sure thing...she noted...

"How's Dawny taking it?..." he looked at her, his tears having slowed a bit...

Bout what you'd expect...But she feels they did the right thing...

The new Slayer was inexperienced...If they hadn't been there to help...

"And Joycee?.."

She'll be angry for a while, I guess...

But in the end...she'll understand...Willow noted...

"It's poor Giles who'll have the hardest time with this..." she told him...Wish we could've spared him this...

Maybe...Maybe if he knew they were together...Safe...Anya helpfully noted...

"A seance?..." Willow grinned wanly...

Haven't done something like that in years...

Xander looked at her...Hopeful...

She looked back...Ok, she admitted...I was hoping you'd ask...

She pulled out a candle and a book...

Shall we?...she smiled, pointing to the living room rug...

They formed a circle and watched the flickering candle...

"Lets go..." Joseph said brightly... "We've seen everything..."

Just a mo...Spike noted...

Dammit, Angelis...Joseph thought...You...You and your bright ideas...

Buffy and Spike appeared before them...Middle-aged like the others...

"Sorry guys..." Buffy told them...

Had to have one more run before we called it quits...

But we're together...Don't fret for us...

"Well..." Spike smiled at Joseph...

We can go now...

Ummn...Joseph twisted his hands nervously as he stood looking at Spike...

They were now back safely in the crypt...

"Will you remember all you've seen?..." with a rather defeated and resigned air...

Absolutely...Spike grinned...And...

Thanks...

Joseph vanished, muttering...

"Spike?..." Buffy knocked at the crypt door...

Wanta patrol with me?...

Definitely...he hopped up...

"Any more word from war-boy?..." he asked brightly...

She glared...And then...

"He's marrying some peasant girl down there next week..." she told him...

Indeed...

"Were you alone here...All this time?..." she looked around, guiltily...

Geesch...why didn't they have you stay at the house?...It's Christmas Eve...

No problem, he told her...

Well...Why don't we try and have a nice Christmas?...she looked at him...

It is our first together...she noted shyly...Smiling at him...

It is indeed...he smiled...

"Merry Christmas, Miss Summers..." he bowed...

Mr. Walthrop...she curtsied...

"Did you practice that?...he grinned at her as they headed out...

Dawn grinned...BR grinned...Buffy grinned...

Course, I wouldn't have left you alone in the crypt on Christmas Eve...Dawn grumbled...At least after your redemption...

Poetic license he noted...

"Nice job, honey..." BR told Walthrop...

Though we edit the vamp scenes for our kids in the future, you know...she noted...

Joycee?...Dawn grinned...

Have you guys already settled...?

No, no...BR told her hastily...The floor is still open...

And how come I wasn't in the story?...BR groused to him...

"You're there..." he grinned...

After all...


	3. Chapter 3

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

London, March 1880, a rainy evening...We find ourselves at the social center of London, the downstairs rooms of the well-appointed Addams family townhouse...

A rather mixed group in attendance...Young gentlemen of the finest families, in their finest, several with their elegant ladies...Mingling with various young, and some few older, artists, writers, thinkers...Some well-known, many not...Along with a few prominent politicians and businessmen, some with their ladies, some not...Even, suggestive of the Bohemian nature of the gathering, a few unattached ladies, not all of the high social standing one might expect at the home of the famous and prominent politician/entrepreneur, Sir Richard Addams...

And at the center of the swirling mix, just having resumed her perch on her favorite settee after again making the rounds to check on the less comfortable of her many guests, surrounded by a newly regrouped cloud of anxious, even in several cases, rather desperate young gentlemen...The current Queen of London society, Miss Cicely Anne Addams...

But while several talkative, some even genuinely charming, eminently eligible young men chatter at her side...Her eyes are fixed on one moving object...A rather shy, brown-haired moving object...In a borrowed suit...Her own cousin's borrowed suit...And when that figure halts, staring about, a bit lost in the crowd...Stared at with cool eyes by several of the elite...

"William!..." she calls out, beaming to him...Much to the general discomfiture of the cloud around her...And specifically to two in that cloud of men and one standing off to the side...

The two in the group of worshipful bachelors holding diametrically opposed views of that William, William Soames Walthrop in full name, whom she'd just called to...Though both views resulting in the same conclusion...

One, an old friend of Cicely's, the good-hearted, loyal, and rising young barrister, Jonathan Levinson...Viewing Walthrop as an admirable fellow, stout of heart and spirit, who'd fought his way through great obstacles to claim a place based on his merit and courage...A story, considering Levinson's own encounters with various ridiculous obstacles placed in his own way by Society throughout his life to date, he rather understandably sympathized with...

The other, the well-known sportsman and champion of holding the line of society...John "Good man Jack" Henderson...Whose views on the young upstart-gutter-trash-pulled-out-of-the-sewer-for-God-knows-what-insane-soft-headed-reason-by-a-well- meaning-but-foolish-Cicely-and-her-weak- kneed -cousin-Henry-Foxcroft, William when not unprintable were generally negative...Having culminated the previous week in his bequeathing of a title on the (rival?...God, no...) little upstart...That of...

"Bloody Awful Poet..."

Yet both share the same final conclusion, however differing their views on William...

Cicely was fond of that fellow...And dangerously close to being to lost to them...Forever...

As for the third, standing apart from the crowd...Sir Richard, Cicely's paternally proud but rather distant and quite domineering father, would most likely have not found her choice of any in the group satisfactory...But to see that the warnings passed to him by his obsequious and ever-present step-footmen, Smike and Squears, were quite justified regarding this nobody from nowhere...And knowing he could not, for the moment, in the middle of his own crowded house, take his usual course of decisive action with the little...Discomfiture was hardly the word...

But none of that feeling, discomfiture or worse...Which she was all too well aware of...Fond as she was of Mr. Levinson and respectful as she was of dear Papa...Matters to her...As she eagerly waves the slight young man over...Rising to greet him...

"William..." she takes his nervous hands in hers... "I am so glad you were able to come..."

"Yes...Thank you, Cicely...Miss Addams..." he pauses...Looking round...

Henry here?...

"Henry is delayed...But he'll be by..." she smiles at him...Several suitors attempting to pass through or round him, ignoring his existence...Stopped by a brief, but devastating glare from the object of their desire...

Even "Good Man Jack" himself is confounded by the hard stare she gives him quickly as he moves up to eject the little poet from the favored spot...Suddenly finding the conversation going on just next to him as he moves by to be by far the most fascinating thing he's heard in ages...

"I have a confession to make, Mr. Walthrop..." she continues...Ignoring the dozen or so suitors hovering around her...Excepting Jonathan, to whom she flashes a hasty smile...Mr. Levinson is here, she interrupts herself to note to Walthrop, who nods at him...A bit uncertain as to Jonathan's status with her, but absolutely certain that he, Walthrop, is nothing more than a minor curiosity and pet project to her...

"Confession...Cic...Miss Addams?..." he eyes her...The shyness fading as he stares deep into her...With a sudden, kindly smile...

"You could never have anything to confess, I'm sure..." he told her with a certainty that made her feel somehow, immediately, heartily sick and tired of the nonsense in her life...Of trying to be the vain silly fool so many of those around her seemed to need and want her to be...

No nonsense with this earnest young man...He had no time for it...Oh, he could laugh...And even play when he wished to...She'd seen it...

And...She'd never met anyone with a more truly romantic soul...But...No nonsense...No polite evasions or putting off of unpleasant feelings...

Odd that this shy little man made her feel as if she'd been judged...And perhaps, found wanting...

So much so that she often found herself furious with him...Arguing with him over issues of politics, philosophy, social justice, and moral right, picking away at his views while always hoping he'd say something, anything to exclude her from those of her social class who insisted on fitting his view of them so perfectly...Arguing with his spirit when he was away, telling him, in her mind, everything about herself, in desperate hopes of improving her standing...

"Well..." she sighs...Several suitors at her side quickly rummaging through their minds for appropriately brilliant words of comfort and denial...

"I'm afraid I do..." she eyes him...

"I've gone and done a terrible thing...Without your permission..."

He blinks at her...

"Henry assisted me..." she continues, nervously... "Though the blame is mine..."

She leads him over to a small table...On which sat a portfolio...Hmmn...Walthrop looks at it...As the cloud of suitors following tries desperately to find positions about her...

The stuff I gave Henry the other day...he realizes...

She hands the portfolio to him...Oh...

"You've read my work...?" he eyes her...

Ummn...Yes...But...Worse...she looks away...

Then pulls out a small printed volume...Handing it to him...

"I had this one printed up...The ones I most enjoyed...I hope you don't mind..." she hastily adds...

"They're good, Will..." she beams at him...He staring...

A collection of a few of his short stories...With two of his better poems...

"Miss Addams..." He holds the book in hand...Looking a bit...

She opens it gently for him...Thumbing through...

The suitors eye each other...

Does not look good...

Christ...Henderson sighs to himself...Defeat looming for "Good man Jack..."...By all right and any common sense the legitimate victor in the match...

She stops at a page...One that fascinated her...And perhaps, frightened her as well...

A kind of foreboding in that he should choose such a theme...And title...

Coincidence?...Perhaps...But considering her secret career...And her budding hopes for him...and her...

A bit too...she pauses on it, meaning to move on...Choose something less...

Henderson however sees a chance to pull something out of the wreckage...Inflict some kind of minor humiliation...

Clearly dear Cicely was letting her ridiculous sympathy for the lower orders affect her judgment and taste...All that was needed was to let the fool expose himself...Yet again...For the buffoon and ass he was...

He comes over and hastily pulls the book away...Cicely looking up in a rage that nearly paralyzed him for a second...But she calms...This is neither the place nor the time to demonstrate her abilities...

Still...No need to reach for something wooden...Her tongue was quite sharp enough for this jackass...

But to her pleasure, William had already taken the field...

"Sir...I would like that back...Now, please..." he glares at Henderson...Moving up to him...Cicely following...

Now, now...William...Henderson, recovering from Cicely's killer glare, can't quite manage his usual patronizing sneer but manages to convey a degree of contempt...

"Lets see...Ah..." he smiles...

Hmmn..."The Vampire...As Metaphor..."...

"Mr. Henderson, please return that..." Cicely fixes him with a slightly less murderous glare...

"Sir...I would prefer no trouble...But...If you would care to go outside..." William eyes him...

Henderson looks back...Then at the furious Cicely...And gives a shit-eating grin...

"No harm intended my friend...Only wanted to see what you had here...A rather fascinating title, eh..." he hands the book to Cicely...Who grabbed it...

"Come, read it for us...I'm sure it's even superior to your work of the previous evening..." Henderson smiles...

Cicely gives him a narrow stare...

"Go ahead, Will...Read it, please..." she turns to Walthrop who now is a bit nervous...

Ummn...

"Smike!..." she calls... "Bring my bookstand..." she points over to a corner of the large room...Smike, on duty...More or less...in a corner, slouches over...

A space round her and Walthrop is cleared...He looks for the door with a view to escape but Cicely is firm and committed by his side...

The suitors and other guests cluster round a bit...Henderson in among them, somewhat hopeful...As are most of the other suitors...Levinson, in their midst, is however a bit concerned for the poor fellow...

Looks like a lamb headed for slaughter...he thinks, but gives Will an encouraging smile...

Cicely squeezes his hand...Go on, William...And guides him gently to the stand...

He clears his throat...Ahem...

"The Vampire As Metaphor..."

Part I...

London...A lecture hall, spring 1880...

The scholar eyed his audience...Young gentlemen and ladies, most attentive, a number looking somewhat bored, clearly dragged in by their partners to this, the first in a series of public lectures...

Well...At least the choice of topic had fired some interest...he smiled out over his podium at them...

Bit more intriguing than the standard literary lecture...

"Gentlemen...And Ladies..." he gave a slight nod to the crowd...

"The Vampire As Metaphor...Images of the vampire and occult in popular and serious literature..."

"Consider...My friends...The mythical Vampire...Foul half-human creature of the night, with the instinctual nature of a predatory animal...Granted a hideous kind of Immortality, yet forced forever from the company of mankind and the light of the blessed sun...Often in folklore, cursed to its horrible condition by some fault or weakness in its former human soul..."

Yet such a creature...So ready at hand as a object to be despised and at best, perhaps, pitied...Is all too frequently an object of fascination...

"Consider, if you will...The ongoing popularity of the tale of "Varney...The Vampyre..." a penny dreadful of the 1840's centering on one Sir Francis Varney, undead vampire who returns to his ancient family estate to drink the blood of a beautiful female descendant, seeking to make her his own...Performed to this day as a very successful stage play..."

Hmmn...A large, tall seated man, attempting with some success to keep from easy recognition, snapped to out of his near-comatose state next to his keenly attentive, sweetly attractive wife...The words "very successful stage play"...Immediately registering with London's most popular playwright...

"Willie?..." his wife eyed him, nudging... "Be still..."

Hmmn...Vampires...Ancient family estates...Beautiful female descendants...Must note that for my next meeting with Sullivan...He was looking for something new, after all...

[In the Addams parlor, seated next to Cicely as William continued, Henry gave a quick grin at the author...Hmmn...Have to get Will to give me a copy and see if old Gilbert would take a gander...He'd be sure to appreciate that little accolade...]

A titter through the crowd...Though the man went rather happily unrecognized by most...

The scholar went on through the ancient and medieval history of the folklore and myth...The vampire in history and its relationship to the ancient pagan gods...The relating of the vampire to Satan and personification of evil in the Christian era...And its more modern role in our Scientific, Rational Age...

Especially...Regards women...

An attractive, blonde young woman, of bold aspect, rises with a somewhat disturbingly eager question...

"So that you would hold, sir, that the image of the vampire represents that which...In a woman..."

The crowd now held fast by the hint of a forbidden topic...Listens in full attention...The hall practically silent...

"The procreative drive, yes..."

Sir!...A gentleman, in late thirties by his appearance, rises to his feet in shocked protest...

"This is hardly a matter for public discussion...!"

A seated lady faints...Not so much from the natural feeling of shock and horror as might be expected as from the simple excitement of being at a discussion where that forbidden word... "procreative"... is mentioned...

"Hardly, you say sir..." the lecturer nods...And yet...Clearly one which attracts us even as it repels...

"Yes...The vampire has the unique ability to stand in for those secret drives, particularly repressed in the polite young woman of our time, which cannot be expressed in the open light of day..."

And public discussion...he smiles...

"And so it has offered a unique platform, as yet not fully utilized by our best artists, for allowing the darkest drives of Humanity to be realized and, perhaps, dealt with...In a far more open and useful manner than our policy of polite and rigid repression..."

Titters, gasps...

"But..." Notes the scholar... "There are cases in which the metaphor and the reality may become intertwined..."

"Reality, sir...?" A young man rose...

"Surely you can't be saying that there is some basis in reality to the fabulous tales of the vampire...?"

Ah...The scholar smiled gently...

"Whether the vampire truly may exist...I must leave to your decision and to the work of Science...However, there are strange cases...Cases in which as Hamlet once said to Horatio... "There are more things in Heaven and Earth...Than are dreamt of...In your philosophy..."

And in studying those cases, we may also be able to shed light upon the metaphoric use of the vampire image as well...

"Let us consider one strange incident I am rather well acquainted with..."

1869...New York City, United States of America...A nation just recovering from the horrors of bloody civil war...

The New York docks...A young, anxious looking short blonde woman, dressed in quiet brown with just a trace of somewhat more bold green in ribbons and shawl in the fashion of a respectable lower middle class young lady scans the area, clearly seeking one or more of the passengers just disembarking from any of several newly arrived vessels, carefully...Occasionally consulting a scrap of paper, slowly disintegrating in her moist clutch...

A mixed group pours past her...Stately-looking gentlemen and their rather nervous ladies from the first-class staterooms of the great trans-Atlantic ships, clutching at any valuables or personal items, clearly having been prewarned to beware pickpurses and the like, desperate to clear the foul-smelling and worse-looking docks and reach the safety of their carriages...Similarly those from the second class cabins...If anything looking somewhat more fearful...

Swarthy immigrants from the steerage sections, some bold and cocky, shoving all and sundry aside, arrogantly staring at the new sights and strangers, others humble, downcast, even terrified as they made their careful way...Frequently hooted at by onlookers, including hooligan boys...And a few girls...Hanging about the docks, watching...Some with business clearly on their minds...Of both honest and dishonest nature...

A young, bespectacled, light-brown haired, somewhat short young man emerges from the bowels of one large ship, not of the high caliber of the great passenger vessels, but one reserved for those travelers of somewhat more modest, yet respectable means...

Looking through a sheaf of papers as he walked, large, rather battered trunk in hand, to the ramp leading down to the dock where he would at last set foot upon this new land of promise and opportunity...

A more anxious, eager, or perhaps simply impatient fellow shoves rudely past him, knocking him aside against the ship's rail...His sheaf of papers falling to the dock below as the young woman passed...

"Hey there!...Easy!..." the young man called out...Clutching desperately at his luggage and his remaining papers...

"Hey!..." the young lady called up at the ship, spying the young man as he leaned out over the rail...

Hmmn...She stared up at the young man...He looks the part...

She thumbed hastily through her letters and notes...

"Excuse me! Miss!..." he called down...Pointed at the papers fallen around her...

"Could you grab those please?...They're quite important!...Please!...I'll be down in just a bit!..."

She looked down at her feet...Oh...And back up...

"Sure!..."

Hmmn...She pulled up several...Nothing official...No seals or anything...

Just some letters...Hmmn...Addressed from London, England...And some...What's it...Poetry...?

Hmmn...

But then the one she was hoping to make contact with here would hardly be carrying official documents identifying him as a scholar of the occult dedicated to the destruction of demonic creatures of Evil...

[Blonde?...Cicely thought, looking a tad downcast...Perhaps even, Levinson noted as he caught sight of her slightly stricken face as she stared at William...

Jealous?...]

Part II...

The young man...Englishman?...The blonde young woman pondered, eyeing his dropped letters and papers as she scooped them up about her...Had managed to press his way down the ship's ramp to the dock where she now knelt...

"Miss?..." he hurried over... "Many thanks..." he bent to take his papers...

Definite Brit...she thought...Even given my limited experience...

"Elizabeth...Anne...Springs..." she nodded...Standing and handing him what she had in hand...

"A pleasure...And again..." he began...And paused in pulling his material together, staring at her...

Hmmn...She stared back...Maybe...

"Elizabeth...Springs?..." he eyed her...

Hmmn-hmm...She nodded...Looking him over...

Short, bespectacled, thin in the kinda runty way...Polite enough...Books...And poetry...on him...

Bout what I'd expect...Uh-oh...A vague presentiment washed over her and she whirled round with simply incredible speed...Before he could register that she'd turned from him to...

"Miss Springs...This is the oddest luck...I have..." he started thumbing through his letters...

"Down!..." she yelped...Pulling him violently to the ground as a huge crate flew just where his head would have been and smashed into the stretch of dock beyond them...Hey!...he cried...

"You ok, sir?..." she looked down at him...Now beneath her...

"My God!..." he gasped, eyeing the broken crate...Now being vigorously looted of its contents by some of the urchins...And a few of the more disreputable adults hanging round the dock...

"Where the devil did that come from?..."

She shrugged...Again looking him over...

"Excuse me, sir!..." he called to a heavy-set brutally official-looking fellow now strolling over, brandishing a short, stout club at the looters...

"Ght yer asses outta here!..." the man hollered... "Sir..." he turned to the young man, changing his manner with surprising agility... "What can I do for ya...?" He eyed the couple, the young woman still perched on top of her new acquaintance...

"That crate nearly killed us..." the brown-haired man replied...Er, pardon, Miss?...he looked up politely...Oh, yeah...Sorry...she got off him...

"Are you a policeman?..." he looked at the large man...

"Dick..." the man shook his head...

"I beg your pardon?..."

"Detective...For the Docks of the City of New York..." the detective replied proudly...A slight twang in his voice...

"Alex Harris..." he offered a large paw...Which the young man with slight trepidation took...

Justified trepidation as the genial detective crushed his hand in a hearty shake...

"What seems to be the trouble, sir...miss...?"

"I think Mr..." the blonde woman paused...

"Potter...Peter Potter..." the young man replied...Smiling a bit at her...

"Mr. Patter'ed like to know why the crate there..." she pointed... "Nearly took his head off..."

"Potter...Miss..." he politely corrected... "Yeah, Patter...I got it..."she twanged back, glaring slightly...

Detective Harris gave a thoughtful look at the crate, then Mr. Potter...Then the ship from which the young man had just disembarked...The only one nearby...He pondered a moment...

"Don't know...I'd kinda like to know that myself...That one wasn't unlading' freight..."

I said git the hell away!...he suddenly turned and threw a stone at a couple of the returned looters as they tried to snatch a bit more from the crate...

"If I didn't know better..." he scratched his head, eyeing the crate and its remaining spilled contents... "I'd say it was off the Marie Louise...Which it can't be, the Marie being on the docks down there..." he pointed off in the distance... "And I'd say...It was picked up and tossed this way...Like it warn't nothin'..."

"Not very likely..." the young woman smiled...No, he shook his head in agreement...

But it don't look right...he sighed deeply...Clearly, Potter noted to himself, a man who objected to things not looking right in his corner of the universe...

But Detective Harris was not a man to be weighed down by the illogic inherent in the universe...He switched manner yet again, now all business...

"Names and addresses, folks...Please..." he whipped out a small book...Fer the record...he explained...Yer may be needed as witnesses if action's taken on the damages...

"I don't expect to be in the city very long..." Potter hastily noted...

"Me neither..." Miss Springs eyed Potter...Leaving soon, eh...For?...she wondered ...

Could be...she thought...

Fer...The record...Harris sternly replied...Taking them both in his steely gaze...

"Peter Potter...Well, formerly...London, now..." Potter hesitated... "A bit uncertain as to final destination..."

Harris stared...Tapping pencil...

"Probably San Francisco...Somewhere in California, in any case...It's just a bit up in the air right now..."

Good enow...Harris waved a hand...And turned to the lady...

"Elizabeth Springs...Los Angeles..." Harris blinked...Lost Angels?... "California..." she smiled...

Okee-dokey...Harris clapped his book closed and put it away in a cavernous right pocket...Suddenly whistling with both forefingers in his mouth...Several men and boys emerged from the crowd...

"Secure the goods, boys..." he waved at the broken crate... "Dismissal for anything found on yer or yer family's persons..."

He offered a hasty nod to the couple...Potter staring at him...

"So..." Miss Springs began...It taking a moment to register that Potter was not finding her the sole object of his attention... "You're bound for Cal..."

"Just a mo..." Potter called to Detective Harris...Who gave him a full faced stare...Well?...

"That's all...?...Aren't you going to try and find who let that crate fall?..."

A slight frown on Miss Springs' part...Hey, there limey-boy...A young and not unattractive lady here givin' you the time of day...

"Couldn't've fallen from that boat..." Harris shrugged, noting Potter's ship again... "And no other way for it to get over here..."

"It might not be probable that it fell from a boat..." Potter nodded... "But one might argue there may be no other explanation...And if the impossible has been excluded, however unlikely it may be...Only the improbable remains..."

Sounds like something my fellow should say...Elizabeth...Beth to friends and family...Bess to intimate living acquaintances...Miss to strangers...and holy hell to the Undead...Thought...

And he wouldn't risk being exposed here...

Well...?

The tall figure in dark cloak was silent...Stiffly removing said cloak to reveal a rather well-sealed suit of armor underneath...Covering every conceivable area of skin...Dark glass even in the narrow visor...

Well...? the impatient smaller figure...A rather Napoleonic little fellow, complete with strut...Eyed his agent...Returned from a rather vital pre-emptive mission...

"Urrghh..." the tall figure fumbled at its sealed helmet...An awful nuisance and hot as the old stomping grounds of Hell...But allowing the wearer within an unusual freedom of movement by day...

The helmet came loose with a rush...Revealing a rather hideously twisted, grey-faced creature's bald head...With huge, black doll's-eyes, now blinking as they adjusted to the light of its master's lair...

"Love dead...Hate living..." the foul Undead creature groaned...

"Yes, yes...As we all do, Gregor..." its master nodded, tapping fingertips as he stood by the creature...

"But did you do what is likely to bring us one step closer to eliminating those hateful Living?..."

Is the Slayer's new Watcher finally dead?...Once and for all?...And did our people get his information...? "Napoleon" stared into his minion's hideous face...

"Better yet...Is the Slayer herself dead?..."

"Me see Slayer..." Gregor nodded... "Man with Slayer...Me throw big box...Boom..." he paused, rather eloquently...His master hanging on the rather efficient narrative...

One never wastes words in conversation with a fully demonic vampire...As opposed to his wordy human-vampiral hybrid offspring...

"Love Dead...Hate Living..." Gregor tried to sound enthusiastic...

Hmmn...When Gregor tries to avoid an unpleasant subject...his master thought...

"You failed, Gregor?...Did you at least get the Watcher's documents?..."

One look at poor embarrassed Gregor's face told all...

Lovely...Just lovely...Three agents dispatched to kill that damned Watcher...With what should have been plenty of time available during an Atlantic sea crossing...Three failures...

Though, of course...Dear Olive has not reported in yet...Still if the Slayer has made contact in New York, she must have failed ...

My demon lord...Heinrich Nast, Grand Master of Vampires...Well, would-be Grand Master...Pending success in this endeavor...Sighed to himself...Brushing back the black hair on his head, his handsome face...Which but for a slight physical disfigurement elsewhere, related to his former, human, profession as the Pope's favorite singer, famed throughout mid-18th century Europe, would have won the hearts of many young women like Miss Springs... twisted by disappointment...

Still...He eyed Gregor's sheepish face...Was a rather complex assignment for the poor fellow...Which he'd attempted on very short notice, after word that the Slayer still seemed to be planning on making contact in New York had been passed on...

And a pure-bred demonic vampire was such a valuable asset...Irreplaceable, really...

"Well...There, there...A good try..." Nast shook his head...Gregor hanging his... "We'll deal with the Slayer and her Watcher later..."

But we really must get the location of that potential Hellmouth Gate...Hmmn...Perhaps we should try another approach...

Miss Springs being merely a human female in the final analysis after all...Well...

"We'll think of another way, Gregor...And you will have a fine role in the Slayer's destruction..." Nast beamed...

"You will give it your best effort, won't you Gregor?..."

"Love Dead..." Gregor insisted firmly... "Hate Living..."

That's the spirit...Nast nodded...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" ) . )

Archived at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop...(direct link will be...com/buffyrebecca/ )

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part III...

Two hours later...The New York docks...

A somewhat nettled Detective Harris having agreed after young Mr. Potter's careful phrased lack of satisfaction with his investigative efforts to make inquiries as whether anyone might have seen the person responsible for the unfortunate crate incident, he, Potter, and charmingly concerned Miss Springs...Wonder if it's customary among American women to stay unrelentingly by a man they've saved from death, Potter wondered, eyeing her...Had made an exhaustive circuit of the dock area...

No one apparently had seen 'nuting' as Detective Harris put it...Though to Potter's surprise that seemed to disturb the dockyard detective more...

"That crate couldn't've come out of nowheres...There weren't no ship abouts...And nobody coulda tossed it far...Somebody's musta seen sumtin'...And somebody's lying..."

Not good in his business...Harris noted to his companions...Which relied on the trustworthy support and complicity of the local dockers both honest and less so...Without that...Chaos...And rapid escalation of the main problem of the docks from petty theft and delay to large-scale robbery and paralysis...

Yes, well...Potter was now tiring a bit of the law officer's investigative enthusiasm...He'd merely wanted a slight show of effort and concern...Not to spend the fast-vanishing afternoon wandering around endlessly... "Thank you for your efforts, Mr. Harris..."

"I think I'd best be off to my hotel...Miss Springs..." he politely touched his hat to the girl who frowned at him as he took up his bags... "Hey...Wait..." she followed him...

"You said you had something for me!..." she was beside him in a second...Hmmn...Fast girl, he noted...

Perhaps possibly in more ways than one...The thought occurred to him...But he halted...Yes, of course...

"I have a letter and a box for you...From a gentleman I met on the boat crossing over...A Mr. Merritt...?"

"Yeah?..." she eyed him... "Somebody you met, huh?...On board?..."

"You don't know him?..." Potter paused... "Perhaps I should..."

"No, no...I know Merritt...You can give it to me..." she smiled sweetly... He frowned, but put his bags down and opened one...Here...he handed her an envelope and a small, rectangular box...She took them and putting a leg on one of his bags to prop the box level in the crook of her elbow and arm, opened the envelope, smoothing the letter within on the box...

"Thanks...So...Where is Mr. Merritt?...Did he leave the boat ahead of you?..." she looked at him...

"I haven't seen him since he gave these to me the third day out..." he paused, considering whether or not to politely ask her to please move her...Rather interesting leg...From his bag or wait her out...

Waiting out after all being the more gentlemanly route...Not to mention perhaps the more pleasurable one...

She frowned at the letter and gave young Potter a hard glance...Damn, clearly she'd been mistaken...Well, no harm done...The Brit seeming utterly clueless...Merritt must've sensed trouble and figured he could always retrieve the stuff from him if things went well... But if he didn't make it she'd see this Potter as the likeliest candidate for contact...And if the little fellow became a target himself in the meantime...Well...No great loss...

"Anything wrong...?"

"Nah..." she shook her head...A quick smile...Hmmn...Wonder what the heck his game really is?...she looked the young Englishman over carefully and throughly...Eh, just another clown hoping to make a pile in the California gold fields or something like that...

[Hmmn...Cicely eyed Will carefully...As he blinked, the catching of her intense stare throwing him off a rather good stride for an instant...Land of Opportunity?...California gold fields?...Poor college graduate with a brother and sister to support and no money...He wasn't by any chance, considering?...Ok, then, maybe time to push things along relationshipwise after this enchanting evening...

Wonder if Henry was planning to use that cottage of his up in the Lake District this weekend?...

Hmmn...Henderson thought, giving as concealed a glare as possible at the precious little 'poet'...So perhaps our diminutive pest is planning a move westwards?...What a pity...]

Still he was headed her way...Hmmn...In fact...Perhaps Merritt's scheme was worth continuing...At least until she'd learned what had happened shipboard...If Nast and co thought she'd linked up with her new Watcher without incident...They might show their hand faster...

But first things first...She moved the box up for opening...He eyeing it as well, somewhat interested after carrying the thing for days...She gave him a...Yes?...stare and he backed off slightly...Sorry...

"Not at all..." she shook her head... "Just that some of the contents might be...Personal...You do understand?..." Certainly, he nodded...And tried to look elsewhere...Ummn... "Perhaps if you'd let me have my bag and be on my way...?" he suggested...

"Sure, sure...Just a minute..." she waved him off hastily and opened the box...Mmmn...

He slipped back in a bit, seeing the large, well-bound book inside...With a rather sinister raised illustration on the cover...Well?...he looked at her...Quite a piece of workmanship...he noted...

Yeah...she recovered the box... "Pity I can't read it..." Hmmn...A thought struck her... "Say..." "Potter, Peter Potter..." Potter reminded her... Yeah... "You don't by any chance read Latin and Greek, Mr. Patter?..."

Does a fish know how to swim and a bird to fly?...he did not say...Though rather wished he had a second after nodding yes...I believe so...

"Great...You can read this thing to me tonight...At our hotel..."

Our hotel...? he stared at her...

"We're both starting for California tomorrow, right?..." she noted... "So odds are we're staying at the same hotel...Or..." she beamed at him... "We could be...Especially as I've not booked a room as yet for tonight..."

Oh...?

[Interesting...Jonathan thought, watching William...So, assuming Walthrop knows something about his subject...What they say...At least in those circles not frequented by ladies...About American girls is really...?]

"And it wouldn't be safe for me to wander these streets alone...My...Uncle...Mr. Merrick..." "Merritt..." "Merritt, right...Not having showed as yet..."

"Well...But then...Shouldn't you call Mr. Harris back and...?" "Yeah..." she cut him off... "I'll leave a note with him to have Uncle reach me at the...?" she gave him a...Well?...stare...

"Well...I'm supposed to be staying at the Germania...A friend recommended it..."

"Here..." she handed him the box... "Just let me get my things, I left them in the baggage office when I came out here...I'll leave a note there, too..." she hurried off, leaving him a bit speechless...

But not necessarily displeased...

So...This is how it's done in the New World...

Encountering Detective Harris once again in the baggage office, Miss Springs politely thanked him for his efforts and recovered her things...Glancing out the window several times to confirm that young Mr. Potter was keeping what she chose to consider a promise...To wait for her...

After she left Detective Harris stood near the large window and watched her meet with Potter outside and head off...He turned to an assistant... "I wanta know where they go...What they're doing...When one of 'em heads for the latrine...I know it...Got it?..." he eyed him...

Aye...the assistant nodded and left...

A few minutes later...

The New York sewer tunnel #1, triumph of modern (1860's modern) engineering...Though perhaps now a bit...Dank...

Temporary lair of Heinrich Nast, would-be Napoleon of the Underworld...Who'd called his available minions in for a quick consultation...

[Nast?...Cicely blinked a moment...Where have I heard that name?...]

"Gentlemen..." he nodded politely to New York's finest...Of the Undead variety...

And including several representatives of fairly prominent local families...None of course comparable with the lineage of Nast or his handful of European colleagues who'd made the dangerous journey to the Land of Opportunity...Gregor standing somewhat downcast off to one side...

"I fear I have bad news...Our attempts to derail the Slayer's meeting with her new Watcher have failed..." he sighed... "Though not for want of effort on our dear Gregor's part..." he smiled at the shamefaced Gregor...

[Slayer?...Watcher?...Cicely stirred in her chair a bit nervously...Still the "Vampire Slayer" thing has been used by other authors...I'm reasonably sure...No reason to assume...she told herself...]

"This should not be considered a true disaster however..." he noted... "As she now must have the location of the Hellmouth portal in her possession...And we can track a Slayer much more easily than a mere puny human Watcher..."

[Come to think of now...Didn't my Watcher mention a 'hellmouth' once?...Ummn...Maybe I mentioned it to William as a interesting legend...Or to Henry...Yes...That has to be it...]

"So..." A newly-arrived fellow, fully covered in heavy overcoat, scarf, and hat to guard against the remaining afternoon sunlight... "Your Olive must have failed with the Watcher at sea..."

"Yes..." Nast sighed sadly... "A great pity...I fear we may have lost poor Olive outright..." Or will when she shows her miserable face round here...he did not say...

"Now that would be tragic..." the fellow in overcoat nodded...Switching to a feminine pitch... "Especially after she managed to kill that Watcher for you, Heinrich..." the coat and scarf dropping away to reveal a rather beautiful brown-haired, grey-eyed, tall...One might assume but would be slight off the mark...Woman...

"Olive?..." Nast stared... "So you say you succeeded in destroying the Watcher...?"

Floating somewheres in the north Atlantic, my love...she beamed... "A very charming man, actually...Quite brave...Refused to tell me anything and jumped before I could transform him, more's the pity..."

"But...?" Nast looked at the even-more shamefaced Gregor... "Gregor saw the Slayer make contact with the Watcher?...At the docks...He even tried to kill him..."

"Not the Watcher sent from England, my love..." Olive smiled... "Whoever this new fellow is, he's not the one I tracked..."

"I suppose they might have sent two...A rather sensible precaution on the Watchers' part..." the Leader pondered...

"Wait..." Olive looked over at Gregor... "Gregor, the man you tried to kill...Was he short, brown-haired?...A bit...Well, not the most prosperous-looking of men?"

Gregor pondered in turn...As much as his limited pondering capacity would allow for... "brown hair?..."

"There's your explanation, Heinrich..." Olive beamed... "Our Watcher handed his materials over to this fellow...Probably never knew what he had..."

Indeed...Nast placed fingers together...Plausible, yes... "But the fact remains that the Slayer now knows where the Great Hellmouth Portal is and we do not..."

So?...Olive shrugged... "We follow her to California, we kill and you transform her, she hands you, her sire, the Hellmouth in gratitude for her new lease on Unlife...We...er...You obtain access to unlimited power via said Hellmouth...I reign as your new Queen Consort after killing the said vampiral Slayer..."

Loathing competition as I do...she noted...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" ( . )

Archived (soon) at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop...(direct link will be...com/buffyrebecca/ )

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part IV...

The lobby of the Germania Hotel, New York City...Late afternoon...

Nice place...It'll do...Miss Springs nodded to Potter, looking round...Yes?...He looked at her, a slight frown...

Impetuous little blonde thing...And Mother had warned him about those impetuous American girls...

"Thanks for helpin' me out...Peter..." she suddenly stopped peering about and beamed at him... "I'd've been so at odds with Uncle disappeared and all...And I have to head out to Los Angeles tomorrow..."

Ummn...Certainly...he nodded...

Well...Perhaps impetuousness wasn't all that bad a thing at that...If it brought one smiles like that...he thought, smiling back at her...

"Hope I haven't been too...Forward...I get that way sometimes..." she grinned, a little sheepishly now...

"I suppose I must seem like everything your Ma warned you about in American girls..." she continued...

Not at all...he waved a hand...Lugging her bags and his over to the lobby desk...

Yes?...The desk attendant, a young, respectable-looking lady eyed them...A large ledger set in front of her...

"Potter, Peter Potter...Of Brusset, England...A friend of mine here in New York placed a reservation some time ago for today..."

Yes...The clerk consulted her ledger...Then coolly eyed Miss Springs...

"For one...Mr...Peter Patter..." "Potter..." Peter corrected, sighing slightly...

Right, the clerk nodded...Like I said...Peter Patter...

"For one..." she eyed Miss Springs again...Who gave a demure smile...

"Yes...Well...My friend Miss Springs here...Is, like me, heading out to California tomorrow...And also requires a room...For herself..."

Alone...he returned the clerk's now icy stare...

"Nope..." she stared at him... "Nothing available..."

Oh...Elizabeth sighed... "You sure about that?...Be happy to share with somebody..."

Potter gave an involuntary start...Ummn...

The clerk's icy stare deepened...She gave a quick glance to a husky fellow cruising the lobby...Who paused to eye the couple...

"There must be some girl looking to split a room...Or a bed..." Miss Springs smilingly explained...

Right...Peter gave a relieved nod...Some other respectable young lady seeking to share expenses...

"Nope..." the clerk shook her head...But gave what was clearly a 'calling-off' sign to what was obviously the lobby detective...Who resumed his cruising... "Sorry, Miss...Perhaps you oughta try the Biltmore uptown..."

Hmmn...Miss Springs eyed Potter, now rather torn between relief and regret...

Whoever'd tossed that crate at him clearly'd thought he was her Watcher...The expert on the Hellmouth...And if he could be persuaded to stick near her...They'd continue to gun for him rather than her...Or at least, waste part of their effort on him...Whereas...Alone, the sole focus of whoever's efforts...

"Uptown?...So far?..." she sighed... "I really was hoping to be near the station...I've got some business before I leave tomorrow...And I have to look into what happened to my uncle..." she noted to Potter...With an innocently pleading stare...Another beaming smile...

Ummn...

"Perhaps...Would it be possible...For Miss Springs here to take my room...And perhaps I could bed with someone else...Or down here, in the lobby?...Just for the night?..."

Hmmn...Elizabeth considered...A respectable young Englishman...What would almost certainly tie him to a young lady?...Quickly...

"Could you make inquiries?..." Peter continued...The clerk considering...Always nice to squeeze in an extra customer or two...And so long as the gent was safely with someone or under watch here in the lobby...

"I'll ask..." she gave her first stilted smile... "Just have a seat, folks..." she waved them to a sofa by the front...

"Thanks again...It's really fine of you...Peter...er Mr. Potter..." Elizabeth nodded to Potter as they sat... Not at all...Glad to...

So...He eyed her... "Do you have family in California, Miss Springs?...Are you rejoining..."

Nah...She shook her head... "My folks are gone...Just a married sister in Kansas...A couple of cousins...Aunts...And uncles..." she hastily added... "I'm taking a job out there..."

Ah...Potter nodded... "In what field, if I may ask..."

"The entertainment industry..."

Oh...?

"I sing..." she explained... "A place out there was looking for singers...So, I figured unk and me'd give it a try out in the West...Maybe he'll try selling things to the miners and such while I do my bit..."

Really...He glanced at her...Then at the box from her 'uncle' she'd kept close since he'd given it to her...

Yeah...she stared at him...Kind of an uppity Brit look on his face, to her mind...And a kinda snooty tone in that voice, in her opinion...

"So what's your game out there?..." she eyed him... "You lookin' for gold or what...?"

Hmmn?...Oh no...he shook his head...

Unless you count the gold one finds in teeth...he smiled...She blinked...

"I'm a dentist, by profession, Miss..."

Really?...Her turn to give a somewhat...Look...

A...Toothpuller?...And headin' out to California?...

"I thought you was a poet or somethin'...Maybe a schoolmaster...Going out to make a pile in the gold fields first...Long way to go to pull teeth..."

"I was offered a place in San Francisco by an associate of mine...Since I'm new in the profession...And even young dentists are needed out there...It seemed like a good place to make a start..." he explained... "And you were right, I do try my hand at poetry and writing...But since I don't expect to make my fortune there and my family needs me to make a good start...I've got a young sister and brother to care for since my mother passed away..."

Oh...

"Yes...Would you care to see...?" he indicated his battered trunk... Sure...she nodded...

He set the trunk down flat and opened it carefully...A case inside, she noted...Which he patted fondly...My instruments...he explained...And reached for a small folded frame deeper inside...

Three pictures...A handsome woman, himself behind her, a bit younger than now, and two young children, pretty boy and lovely dark-haired girl in one...Separate pictures of the boy and girl in the other sections...

"They look very nice, Peter...That your ma...?" she pointed to the handsome woman...He nodded...

Dead of consumption just a year...he sighed...But she did live to see me graduate...

"Wished I'd had a better picture of my ma..." Elizabeth shook her head... "But we only had the one tintype done that time...At least I got that anyway..." she looked away a moment...

"I'm sorry you lost your uncle...Miss Springs..." Potter nodded sympathetically... "I will try to help you find him tomorrow..."

"I think he's dead Peter...Probably one of the fellas he owed money to caught up with him on your boat..." she sighed...

What...he blinked... "You mean you think...?"

Yeah...Happens when you play the cards a little too much...she noted...

"Lucky he met up with you and passed his stuff on for me...I'd've hated to lose it..."

Yes...Ummn...he stared at her... "Shouldn't we...The police..."

"If he's dead...He's floatin' out on the Atlantic...I don't think the police are gonna find him now...And I hafta get to Los Angeles and take that job...My sis and her husband ain't doing all that well with their farm...They need whatever I can send em..."

"I'm..." "Don't be sorry, Peter..." she grinned... "I love my singin'...Even if I'm not what you'd call concert hall material...And I like travel...A lil' adventure's good for the soul, right?...You're the same way, right?...Comin' out there yourself and all..."

"I suppose so...Hope to make good, anyway..."

"I'm sure you will..." she smiled...

"But..." he returned to a subject that had been scratching at him...And eyed the box... "What about that book of your uncle's...What is that?...It's wonderfully worked...Must be quite old..."

And you did want me to read it and your uncle's papers over for you...he noted...

Yeah...she nodded...Well, maybe later...If we both can stay here...

"And speakin' of that...Let me go and see how that lady with the bug up her..." Ummn...she paused as he gave a noncommital look... "That lady..." she corrected... "Is doing..."

She rose... "Backside..." he smiled at her... "I'd definitely say it was up her backside..." She chuckled and went off...

Hmmn...He eyed the box she'd set down...

She had asked him to look at the book...

"Ten bucks to tell him it's no go on the extra bed...And your policy's no sleepin' in the lobby..." Elizabeth hissed to the clerk...Who'd been about to tell her that all was set for Mr. Potter to spend the night...

Oh...?

"Look, honey...This is a respectable place...And we don't allow..." "Twenty bucks...He's my feller but a little shy, you know...I'll slip him up the back stairs and no one'll be the wiser..." she gave a hard stare...Then a wry grin... "Come on...We'll be quiet...And he'll leave before anyone catches on to him...Including your dick back there..." she glanced back to the detective on patrol...

"You got the twenty?..." Right here...she pulled out twenty dollars from her purse...A heavy drain, but worth it if it put her enemies off...And the Council was payin' after all...

"A lotta money to throw away for one night with your boy...He worth it?..." the clerk eyed her...

"Oh yeah...My Petey's a poet...You know...The romantic type..." she gave a soulful look... "And a dentist to boot...Good with...Instruments..." she grinned...

Hmmn...The clerk looked over to where Potter was carefully examining Miss Springs' unusual book...Poet with a profession, eh...And not bad-looking...

"Covers all the bases..." Elizabeth smiled... "And...Taken, honey...So close your jaw and forget about it...Just tell him there's nothing you can do about the bed when he comes over...But that, as the kind-hearted type that ya are...You could see your way to..." Right...the clerk nodded...

"Peter?..." she called to him...Oh, yes...he looked up, rising...And hastily putting the book back in its box...

Hmmn...What the devil would a singer and her miner/shopkeeper 'uncle' want with a book of ancient legends about demons and vampires?...he pondered...

"We've a little problem..." she noted as he came over... "But Miss..." "Ana..." the clerk nodded... "Miss Ana...Is willing to help us out...If you think you could deal..."

[Whoa...Jonathan, Cicely, and a number of others in the room stared...William looking a tad red for an instant...But a dutiful author must stand by his work...Fortunately Cicely's father had long since retired to the peace of his study...

Well...This might be a rather interesting lakeside weekend at that, if I can pull it off...Cicely thought...]

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" ( . )

Archived (soon) at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop...(direct link will be...com/buffyrebecca/ )

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part V...

Young Mr. Potter was a trifle taken aback by the forthright Miss Springs' proposal...Sleep in the same room with her?...Miss Ana, the hotel clerk eyeing them both, while keeping a lookout for any of the staff who might raise objections...

"You must've had to sleep with other folks before, Peter..." Elizabeth frowned at him...Geesh, pal...Any of those guys out there in the lobby would be thankin' the Lord on bended knee for a chance like this... "There's no big deal 'bout it...You take the bed, I take the sofa...It being your room and all...You guys do this all the time, right?..." she turned to Ana...Who blinked a moment, the honor of her beloved hostelry impugned...

On the other hand, twenty bucks...She nodded slightly... "Long as it's kept decent...And you two are betrothed, right...?" she turned to delicately blow into a large embroidered handkerchief...

Absolutely...Elizabeth beamed...Grabbing at Potter's hand...A swift kick to his knee as her startled new life companion began a protest...

"Then it should be no problem at all...Ummn..." Ana eyed the lobby detective, now moving their way... "Just make sure he comes up the back way by the fire escape...Our dick knows you're not married..." she whispered...

Ok...Miss Springs nodded... But...Potter tried again, blinking...

"Shut up..." she hissed harshly... "Peter..." she added, changing to a sweetly earnest tone... "You have to have a place for tonight, right?...Let me do this for you..." she patted his arm... "It'll be just fine...Don't worry..."

Oh, I hear those wedding bells a-chimin'...she glanced over at the lobby dick...Who was again giving them a once-over...

Nast's lair in NYC Sewer tunnel #1...Evening...

Following their host's rather enthusiastic tour of the great tunnel he currently inhabited...And his guests having expressed praise and wonderment for this monument to engineering expertise...These humans...One noted, shaking his head...We must try to keep a few alive as pets...The distinguished visitors and host, along with his own minions, including Olive and the still somewhat embarrassed Gregor took seats to continue the planning mode of their operations...

"Gentlemen...And ladies..." Nast smiled at Olive and the handful of mates about the conference table...

"Our objective..." he waved a hand and light from a projection device, a more advanced form of magic lantern, shone on the wall beyond him...An image came into focus...A rather ornately carved large disk or plaque...

"The Great Seal of the California Hellmouth...Closed for at least ten thousand years..."

The source of limitless occult power...he continued...(well, for 1869 fairly limitless...)

"And the gateway to allow more of our dear Gregor's kind to rise up and join us..." Gregor giving a slightly stiff but appropriately dignified nod...

And...He gave a frown...Waving for the next slide...

"The obstacle standing in our way...One Miss Elizabeth Anne Springs, Vampire-Slayer..."

[Why couldn't he be using 'vampire-destroyer', 'demon-hunter'?...Cicely sighed to herself, looking nervously at the reading William...Slayer?...This is just too...

On the other hand, is nice to see him looking so relaxed now...Really hitting his stride...She gave a kindly beam to him...

Maybe I let the term slip in conversation and it stuck in his mind?...Yes...she reassured herself...That's got to be it...

Hmmn...she frowned...Blonde...American...

Damn...

Well, we'll see how things go this weekend...]

A picture of Miss Springs, somewhat younger by two or three years, and bearing a rather formidable aspect...Stake clenched in hand...

Several sighs rose about the room...Though one fellow spoke up...A young nobleman from Transylvania...Several casting him deferential looks of respect...

"Not to mention the other 'obstacle', my dear Nast...You do not even know the precise location of the Seal and Hellmouth..."

"My dear Count..." Nast eyed the young-looking but poised fellow, Vladimir Dracula, grandnephew and treacherous betrayer of his great rival, Vlad the Impaler, vampiral Prince of the Dracule...

"The Slayer holds the secret of the Hellmouth's location...Thus all obstacles are centered in her...Take her in the appropriate way...Or let her uncover the Mouth's location before we destroy her...And the minor problem of locating the Seal is settled..."

"Take her then..." one older fellow...the famed Hans of Strasbourg...Who, with his brother, now beside him...The equally famed Franz of Heidelberg...Glared at Nast...

"If you truly are destined to seize the power of the Hellmouth and rule over all..." he sneered... "A mere Slayer should present no difficulties..."

Olive turned in her chair, eyeing Hans, then to Nast with a questioning look...

"My friend..." Nast gave a charming smile... "I have explained that the Slayer is isolated now...We having disposed of her previous and new Watchers...And that she bears the secret of the Seal's location...I wish to proceed cautiously, lest she, in a moment of panic, destroy herself and her information before we can obtain it..."

"Or perhaps..." Hans eyed him coldly... "You find the Slayer to be a bit too difficult to deal..." he suddenly dusted...Franz staring in horror...Others about the conference table staring with variations in expression from mild horror to amusement...and pleasure...

How?...Franz looked about where his dearly departed brother had sat...No one, nothing...Olive now smiling at him from her seat...Straightening the hair under her rather stylish hat...

"In the same way as we will deal with Miss Springs when the time comes if I lose the pleasure of getting to know her personally..." Nast gave another beaming smile...Mirrored by Olive and a surprising number of others about the room...Vladimir and Franz now looking a tad uncomfortable...

"I have heard...From my own agents..." Vladimir quickly regaining his composure...Nast was capable, no doubt, but one must consider one's proper place in the hierarchy and act accordingly... "That Miss Springs has a new companion with her...British..."

"Not a Watcher..." Nast smiled... "Our dear Olive has assured us of that..."

"Indeed?..." Vladimir eyed the smiling Olive...Who nodded...

"Just a little fellow who met her Watcher en route from England..." she explained...

"Who eluded Gregor's efforts to kill him?..."

Gregor gave an audible sigh...Looking downcast...

Hmmn...Nast now frowned at young Dracula...No need to hurt the poor fellow...

"Effort..." he corrected coolly... "And it was Miss Springs who accomplished the eluding...No, this gentleman is no threat to us...Simply a means by which the Watcher, Mr. Merritt supplied the Slayer with his information..."

"Perhaps...And perhaps the Council has been more clever than you suspect...He is staying with her at her hotel tonight..."

Olive eyed Nast...Hmmn...?

Apart from the shocking lack of propriety...

"He could be a second Watcher...The more knowledgeable of the two sent...Masquerading as a nobody to produce just the effect he has achieved..."

Hmmn...Nast eyed Olive...Gregor sighed again...Brown-hair, no dead...Bad...he murmured...Catching the gist of the conversation and summarizing it in a rather efficient nutshell...

"Doubtful..." Nast shook his head... "But even if it were true...And we should have proof when and if they separate...Tomorrow..."

Tomorrow?...Several of the European guests shook their heads...

These wild Americans...

"...A Watcher is only human, and we can deal with humans rather easily..." he concluded...

"And if he is the real agent, sent to destroy or permanently seal the Hellmouth?...You set us chasing Miss Springs and he separates from her to go about his task unhindered..." Vladimir gave a hard stare...Befitting a Prince of the Blood...

Is he on our side or what?...Olive frowned...Considering another reach for her hat and the wooden bullet-firing dart gun concealed in it...

Several around the table gave nods, hear-hears, or growls of support to Dracula...

"The Count makes a valid point..." Nast conceded... "But you are all here because I wanted your advice and support..." An expansive smile... "And so, I will take his advice and call upon him to maintain a watch over this fellow, should he and the Slayer separate...But not to take him...Yet..." he eyed Vladimir sternly...

"A task which perhaps may turn out to be essential...And one, I trust...For the good of us all...He will accept..."

Damn...Rather would've preferred being on Miss Springs' surveillance team...Vladimir sighed inwardly as Nast and the others looked at him...Wonder if Nast and his bitch...He smiled gently at Olive who relaxed a bit, pausing from straightening her hair, and returned the smile...Guessed I'd hope to take Slayer and Mouth myself...

But then nearly everyone round this table is hoping to permanently cut Nast and co out of the action at the end...he noted to himself...

Still, it was my bright idea to have this moronic human placed under surveillance...I'm foxed...

And if he does turn out to be the key to the Seal...

"I shall be glad to do what I can...For Evil's common good..." Vladimir nodded dutifully...

The lobby of the Germania Hotel, NYC...Evening...

Mr. Potter having gone to drop bags in the room and secure a dinner table for them in the hotel dining room at Miss Springs' innocently eager suggestion...Starved she'd assured him...Miss Springs had taken the opportunity to send out a note via one of the messenger boys kept in the lobby for just such purposes...

Clerk Ana eyeing her as she did so...Noting her maneuvering of Mr. Potter...

Don't tell me she's got another feller waiting as well...

Peter returned after fifteen minutes to announce that dinner would be ready shortly and found his new acquaintance in rather deep conversation with a short, shifty-eyed little man in respectable if slightly shabby clothes...

My cousin, Willie Smackles...I got in touch sos he wouldn't get worried about me...she explained by way of introduction...Willie offering a clammy hand...

"Mr. Patter...(Potter, Peter Potter...Peter corrected patiently)...Who's been helpin' me out today..."

Hmmn...She has family here and still needs...

"Willie doesn't have any room for me at his lodgings...And they're too far from the station for my train tomorrow..." she noted hastily...Willie eyeing the young man...

Sure looked like the Watcher type...

[Watcher again?...Cicely fretted...Well, must've been talking too much...Must watch myself better in future...]

"Mr. Patter's (Potter sighed faintly, giving up) going with me to California tomorrow..." she eyed cousin Willie...Oh?...

"San Francisco...A bit to the north of where Miss Springs is headed..." Potter explained...

Thats what you think...she thought, smiling...

"Peter...er Mr. Patter...Willie needs to see the book unk gave you for me...Could ya get it for him?...If it's not too much..." Not at all...Potter smiled and headed for the stairs...

Well?...she eyed her contact, 'cousin' Willie...A half-demon in Council employ...Who'd given her the earlier info to go to the NYC docks to find her new Watcher...

"I can tell you if it's The Book...But that's all...I can't read it..."

She frowned...Then brightened... "Then lucky I hooked up with somebody who can..."

"But, Miss..." Willie fidgeted... "The fella's not a Watcher...And the Council won't like you getting him involved..."

They want me to do this one, they leave me to it...she waved a hand, frowning... "You just hang round like I tole ya till I need you tonight...Gotta have my 'cousin' close by to seal the deal..."

"But?...You really gonna..." he stared at her...

"They saw him...He fits the bill...Brit and all...He'll keep some of em off my back...And since he can read The Book, he's a perfect choice..."

Matrimonywise and all...she grinned...

"Less you're suggestin' we go out West together...Without a ring..." she eyed the little half-demon...

God, no...If the Council ever found that one out...Canned for sure...Still, he had to try again...

"But he ain't Council..."

"All the better..." she nodded in Peter's direction...Just tell London...

And if...When...He bites it...

No great loss...

The offices of the Port of the City of New York...Evening...

Detective Harris eyed his agent...Who'd kept close watch on the couple he'd been assigned to follow since the incident of that afternoon...An incident still an unresolved mystery...

In the official report, at least...

"They're at the Germania...Near the station..."

Right enough, the California train...Harris nodded...

"...Seem to be staying..." the agent paused, delicately...

"Together?..." the detective eyed him...Hmmn...

Sounds interestin'...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" ( . )

Archived (soon) at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop...(direct link will be...com/buffyrebecca/ )

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part VI...

Lobby of the Germania Hotel, NYC...Evening...

Peter had brought the Book down to the waiting Miss Springs and her 'cousin' Smackles...Willie eyed it rather reverently...Carefully taking it from the young dentist/poet...

"Well?..." Elizabeth watched with Peter looking on as well behind her...She reaching back and pulling him to her side...No need to hide back there, Petey...A winning little smile...

"It's the Book..."

"Been in the family for generations..." she hastily noted to Mr. Potter... "So lucky uncle Merritt got it to you, a real sad day if it'd been lost..." Indeed...Peter politely noted...Elizabeth taking, grabbing rather, the opportunity to take and squeeze his hand gently...

Ummn...He stared down at the hand being squeezed... "Really, thanks..." she beamed with all the innocence she could muster...

Yes...Well...he turned to Willie, who was carefully looking through the pages... "If I may ask, Mr. Smackles?...Why is your family so interested in occult legends?..."

Occult?...Willie looked at Elizabeth...He does know his languages...Careful...His look saying...

"Just an old booka wives' tales, Peter...You know, like those Grim Fairy Tales and all..."

"This seems a little more explicit than the Grimm brothers...And offers rather detailed accounts of different creatures and how to..." he paused...She and Willie eyeing him coolly as he went on...And suddenly caught himself as they looked at him...

"Been readin' it a bit, have we?..." Willie frowned slightly...

"Just a bit...Sorry, didn't mean to intrude..."

"Not at all..." Elizabeth cut in...Another beaming smile... "It's just a book of stories...Willie's just anxious it not get damaged...Bein' our most precious family heirloom and all..."

Yeah...Smackles frowned again...

"I was very careful with it...Just looked at a couple of pages...But I do apologize..."

"It's ok...Right, coz?..." she looked at Willie who stiffly nodded...Sure...

"In fact, maybe you could translate some of it for us?...Or just me, maybe?...Later?...On the train?...I'd like to know what's in there...And it's a long trip..."

"I'd be happy to..."

"Well, we oughta head into dinner..." she cut off the possibility of further questions on the Book...Taking Peter's arm with another smile... "Willie, Peter here is a dentist and a writer..." Yeah?...Willie looked at him dryly...

And a walking dead man too, eh?...he did not say...

An alleyway near the Germania...Same time...

Olive frowned as the more-or-less and relative to herself, young Dracula came up to her...Immaculately groomed with beaming, gracious smile...Late for their appointed meeting to begin surveillance on the Slayer and her companion...And, naturally...Olive sourly noted...With a beautiful, wan-looking...Yep, thralled human...Lord, I hate seeing women in thrall, they look like such whipped puppies...the annoyed vampiress sighed...Men, on the other hand...Under my gentle influence...Young woman on his arm...

"You're late, Vladimir...And I see you've brought a dinner guest?..."

"My apologies...I got a bit lost in these streets..." he began with his trademark charming smile...Lost, I'll bet...Olive glared, saying nothing...Then relaxed, contentedly contemplating the dart gun still concealed in her hat and Nast's instructions to dispose of the fool when the right time came...

"As for my dear Marie here...She is my new assistant, whom I 'hired' at the shop where she was wasting her beauty and elegant manner away waiting on fools...And she will be very useful to us in our watch tonight..." he hastily noted...

The Slayer will find no non-human in her hotel trying to spy on her...Only dear Marie here, come to stay the night before leaving for California, whose rather lost appearance is explained by the recent sudden death of her father...

"Sir...I'm not...From..." Marie murmured gently, intending to help... "You are now, dear..." Vladimir eyed her... "Yes, Vladimir..." she nodded... "We can simply watch over the doorways and keep a safe distance on the train tomorrow..." he smiled at Olive...Who frowned and looked the girl over...A pretty thing, definitely...And no obvious-looking scarf or raised collar to advertise a bite scar...Hmmn, no sign of a bite at all...

"Not bad...If she can get a room and keep an eye out..." she nodded reluctantly...

"Marie, dearest..." he turned to her... "You are bowed down by grief over the sudden death of your beloved, deceased father who'd returned to this great city of New York to look after business interests...But you carry on and are returning to your home in..." he paused and looked at Olive, who shrugged...We're not sure where in California the Slayer's going...

"Well, in California...But it is the same town the young woman I told you of...Miss Springs... Is going to...If and when you meet her and engage her in conversation...Just find out where she's going first...Or speak to the young man with her...But be cautious, don't press them for information...And do not under any circumstances allow her to sense my hold on you, understand dear?..."

"Yes, Vladimir..."

Well, at least it isn't 'Master'...Pity, though, in a way...Heinrich would be so pissed at the usurpation of his title, he'd probably allow immediate termination...Olive sighed...

"And don't try to contact us out here...One of us will send another human agent to you in the hotel before dawn...Try to make contact...Say treat them to dinner?...And learn her destination tonight...But if that fails, follow her and her companion to the train station tomorrow and be on her train when she leaves...Get to know them on the train, shower them with favors as a lonely ...But discreet and innocent, he waged a finger...Wealthy, shy, inexperienced young woman seeking friendly traveling companions... "

Yes...Ummn...she paused...

"I think I'll need some money...You have everything from the store till..." she noted quietly...

"Alas, I used it to cover my recent gambling debts...Olive, if you would?..." he turned to her...She blinking at him...Then glaring...

"Surely Nast provides his agents with sufficient funding for his assignments...?" he smiled... "And I have spent a great deal in coming to join forces with him..."

A sufficient amount for Marie to travel as a well-to-do lady?...And generously treat the Slayer and her friend whenever the situation allows...?

Grumbling, she handed Marie several hundred dollars in the fairly new greenback currency...And about fifty in gold...

"That ought to allow you to show them a good time..." she frowned...

And I'll get it all back...Outta your hide...His...She smiled at Dracula as Marie headed off... "Not a bad scheme at all, Vladimir...Heinrich will be tickled at our having a spy in the Slayer's midst..."

And the Slayer's...she coldly noted within...

"Say...Where did you bite her?...I couldn't see any signs of it..."

"A gentleman never tells, my dear Olive..."

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" (. )

Archived (soon) at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop...(direct link will be...com/buffyrebecca/ )

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part VII...

The somewhat crowded, though pleasant enough dining room of the Germania Hotel, about 8:30 pm...

"So...Mr. Smackles..." Peter eyes his dinner companion across the small table...Elizabeth, contentedly sitting next to him on her own insistence, scanning the bill of fare...They gotta be kiddin', forty-five cents for a chicken dinner?...

"What is your profession, I presume here in New York, sir...?"

Willie eyeing the rather annoyingly inquisitive Brit...Thought these types maintained a crusty self-reserve...And kept outta of one's business...

"Me?...I'm a kinda facilitator...I get things done..." Smackles frowns slightly, eyeing Elizabeth...

"Cousin Willie's a middleman...He smooths things for businessmen and such to get what they need done quick..."

Oh...? Peter nodding wisely... "Then you are a political operator?..." "I got my connections downtown..." Willie nods back...

Boss Tweed and all that...Peter notes...

"I know Tweed and his boys...You don't get things done here if you don't..." a shrug...

"While combining a love of old artifacts with your more practical daily grind..." Peter smiles... "I saw the way you handled Miss Springs' book..."

"Mana wide interests, that's me..." Smackles eyes the younger man coolly...

"So we have something in common...Given the practical nature of my own profession..."

Yeah...Willie nods dryly...

"But cousin Willie got started on his luva books late in life..." Elizabeth cut in... "Hows 'bout you, Peter...You been a poet a long time?..."

"All my life, I'd say..." "You must gotta a big pilea work to show off...Regular Walt Whitman, eh...?" she beams...

"Nowhere near that..." he shakes his head...Then smiles...Whitman fan, eh?...a grin at her...

She gives a genuine smile... "Read 'Leaves of Grass' straight through..."

"As did I...A remarkable work...Wish I had hopes of ever coming close..."

Smackles frowns a bit...No time to be connectin' with the guy you're gonna feed to our enemies, girl...Fortunately, the moment fades almost immediately...

"Well, you gotta read some of yours to us...Or me, anyway...I'll take the beef steak...If it's real beef..." she turns to the server who'd just arrived...The girl frowning...

"This is the Germania, miss...It's real beef..."

This week...she did not say...

"At these prices, it better be..." Adding requests for bread, a bottle of beer, and coffee she turns from the waitress who moves on to Willie's order...

And sees that something...Someone...Has distracted her adjacent companion's attention...

A rather delicate, if lovely-looking and well-dressed brunette someone...Who, standing in the busy dining room, looking round, seems a bit lost...

An annoyingly lovely...And tall someone...Elizabeth frowns...Slightly nudging Peter... "Sorry, I need the sugar?..." Yes, here...He passes it without looking at her...

And without taking eyes from the new arrival...

Who...Unfortunately...Appears to be very much human...

[Ah...Brunette and overwhelming him...Cicely noted with satisfaction...]

"Pardon me..." the young woman moves to their table...

"Are you the people leaving for California tomorrow on the morning train?..." she asks gently...

"Yes...Well, the two of us are..." Peter smiles at her, rising...

"How'd you know we were bound for California...?" Elizabeth gives her a narrow look...Willie looking attentively at her as well...

"The young lady at the desk told me when I registered a few moments ago...I was hoping to find someone heading that way as I'm traveling there alone myself..."

Oh...? A cold tone...

"We are heading to California tomorrow, Miss...?" Peter tries a tad more warmth...Noting immediately the mourning outfit...

"Marie...Marie DeRussel..." Marie offers a hand which he gently takes a moment... "Peter Potter..."

"Elizabeth Springs..." The Slayer grabs their unsolicited guest's other hand...And vigorously pumps it a few times...

"...And my cousin, Willie Smackles..." Willie gives a curt nod...Nope, human fer sure...Elizabeth's quick look to him saying...

"I'm so sorry to intrude on you..." "Not at all...We've just begun ordering..." Peter waves... "Please sit with us..."

Well...A grateful, lovely smile... "If you don't mind...?"

Yeah...Elizabeth frowns... "Hava seat..."

"Thank you..."

"I see...You're in mourning?..." Peter hesitates...

"My father passed away in New York a few days ago...While here on business..."

I'm so sorry...

"Yeah...A real shame..." Elizabeth eyes their guest with a carefully appraising glance... "I gotta start wearin' mourning for my uncle Merrick (Merritt?...Peter corrects...Yeah...she frowns...) tomorrow myself...What your pa die of?..."

Consumption, I'd guess from lookin' at you...she did not say...

To Miss Springs' growing impatience, young Dr. Potter devoted himself to their shy, grieving guest during dinner...

Hey, I just lost my unk...Far as you know, Petey...she frowned silently at him as he made another of several mildly humorous remarks on the city and their adventures that day to Miss De Russel, bringing a gentle smile to her beautiful face...Laced with a bit of concern to hear that such a kind gentleman had nearly met a dreadful fate even on emerging from his vessel...

"Yeah..." Miss Springs took the opening... "I saved his life...Right, Peter?..." she looked at him...

And hows bout a little gratitude, boy?...

Indeed...he nodded... "And then we tried to find the culprit but whoever had dropped the crate...Or thrown it...Was long gone..."

"Thrown?..." Marie stared... "At you?...Surely not?..."

"I would think it an accident myself...As no one knows me here...But the dockside detective seemed to think the crate could only have been thrown, though from where...Impossible to determine..."

"Crazy place the docks...Ya get all kinds there...But it probably was just an accident..." Elizabeth noted...

"Well...It's wonderful that you were spared serious injury, Dr. Potter..." Miss De Russel beamed gently at him...

"Nothing at all..." Peter smiled...

Willie watching the scene carefully as Elizabeth gave a narrow glance at Peter...She now a bit nervous for the success of her plans for the night...Awaiting the almost inevitable offer that would spell ruin...

If only the bitch had been a vampiress...Such a simple...Wooden...Solution at hand...

"So we can all leave together tomorrow...That should be very pleasant..." Potter noted...

Lovely...Elizabeth thought...Except there's only one way you and me are leaving tomorrow, Brit boy...

With rings on our fingers...

"That's very kind of you, Dr. Potter..." Marie gave a gently grateful look...

And you, Miss Springs...she nodded...

Yeah...

Maybe she's using magics to cover her demonity...It is kinda convenient for her to show tonight... Or maybe she's a human agent...

Yeah, some treacherous traitor to our kind whom I could kill without a second thought...

"Actually..." Peter had decided to make a brilliant suggestion... "You could actually do us a great favor, Miss De Russel..."

Oh, no...Elizabeth eyed Willie...Who rolled eyes...

"If you could let Miss Springs stay with you in your room tonight...See the hotel was a bit overbooked when we came today and she not having a reservation..."

"No, no..." Miss Springs waved a hand...Rather frantically... "No need to put ya out, Miss..."

"Oh, I'd be very glad to..."

"That's excellent..." Potter beamed...

There somethin' wrong with you, fellah?...Elizabeth stared at him...I mean bein' a gent's all very well and all...But you gonna pass up a crack at a pretty damned neat gal who's been chasin' ya all day?...

Damn...she tried to repress a slight glower as Marie noted how pleasant it would be for them to spend the night together...Like her and her sisters back in the shop...er her father's old factory shop...Before he made his fortune...

"Yeah...Great..." Miss Springs noted curtly...Willie giving her a sympathetic look...

"What about her...?" Vladimir indicated a youngish woman in somewhat disreputable dress, staggering a bit down the street near the Germania where he and Olive maintained their mutual respective watches over the two foci of their interest...

"A street whore?...Vladimir..." Olive glared... "I can't send a trollop in to meet with our fine lady in a decent hotel...Not to mention I have no desire to spend a week or two getting over every disease she's carrying...Even if it would only be a week or two for our kind..."

Though if she's to your taste...she smiled warmly...

"And you don't mind a week to a month of sores and scratching yourself half to death..."

"It was merely a suggestion, my dear...Though frankly, I think you'd have little difficulty in making her as fine a lady as you require...A little cleaning and an air of grace, along with the right clothes...I assure you I could show you many a duchess who could pass for such as she on the right evening..."

I bet you could...she frowned...Aristocrats...Degenerates, all...And someday...When the revolution I once lived and was ready to kill, as a human, for, comes...If it comes before Nast starts his own takeover...

You'll be the first to the wall, I promise you...

Which would be an easier fate than what my Heinrich has in mind for you, if time permits...

"My dear Olive..." young Dracula interrupted her reverie... "I understand you were quite the revolutionary in your human day..."

"I fought for what I considered social justice, Count...Without restraint or remorse...I still do, though strictly for our own kind now..." she eyed him...

"Have you ever considered...?" he smiled... "A revolt within the family circle?..." His face turned serious...Surprising her in spite of herself...

"Nast is a fool, Olive...And he will lead us all to destruction...Apocalyptic destruction...After all...There will be another Slayer after Miss Springs is destroyed..."

"That will hardly matter if Heinrich gains the Mouth's power..." she gave him a hard stare... "And the Master is my sire..." she noted...

"But as I threw off my very granduncle and sire's hold over me..." young Dracula noted quietly... "So a dedicated revolutionary like yourself could her sire's...If the cause merited it..."

As it does...Being namely our people's and the world's survival...

She stared at his sincere face...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" (. )

Archived (soon) at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop...(direct link will be...com/buffyrebecca/ )

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part VIII...

A deeply reluctant Elizabeth had accepted...With many a frown at the good doctor Potter over their dinner table...Miss DeRussel's offer of shared accommodations...

The only bright spot being that access to the wan young mourner's room might allow her to come up with something, anything that would allow for a Slayer's quick solution to the situation...

"Too bad 'bout your dad..." she noted as she sat watching her hostess wash up a bit in the room's basin...Looking for some place to set her hat and small bag...Having entrusted her trunk, with the Book, to Peter...

Bet she takes a bath every day, too...Frenchies, she rolled her eyes surreptiously...

"His heart trouble was more serious than he ever let me know..." Marie sighed as she gently patted her face with a towel, employing an elegant grace that made her guest squirm a bit...

I'd guess so, if it croaked him...Elizabeth thought...

"It is so kind of you and Dr. Potter to agree to let me travel with you..." Marie smiled wanly at her... "My...Ummn...father will...Would...Be so grateful..."

I suppose I still think of him as alive...she noted sadly, if hastily...

"Yeah?...Me too...I mean regards poor ole unk...I did mention my unk kicked it, didn't I?..."

"Yes, I remember...I am so sorry..."

"Yeah...Unk and I was close...He really watched over me, ya know?...Good ole Uncle...Ummn, Merritt...Yeah..."

"I understand...Well, it's good that we were both so fortunate as to meet a gentleman like Dr. Potter...The idea of traveling West without a male guardian terrified me..."

"Yeah?...Oh, me too...Had the willies till I met up with Petey..." Elizabeth leaned back in her seat, a sidelong glance as Marie resumed gently dabbing at her face with a wetted cloth...She do that all night?... "Ummn...Ya know Petey and I...We kinda have a sorta...Arrangement, ya know?..."

Marie paused in the middle of opening a large jar of cream...Rather elegant...French, Elizabeth guessed...Lettering on the side...

"Really?...I was under the impression you two had just met today?..."

"Eh, well..." Elizabeth stretched casually, a languid hand wave... "Only takes a moment to know when it's for real sometimes, ya know?..."

"Indeed?..." Marie smiled at her a moment... "Well, I must tender my congratulations to you both properly when we meet Dr. Potter in the morning...Will you marry as soon as you get to California?..."

"Sooner..." Elizabeth smiled back...

God willin'...

Marie blinked... "But...The train leaves tomorrow morning..."

"Plenty a time..." another casual wave... "We're gonna keep it a small thing for now, do the works right later..."

Say...She sat up a bit...A beaming grin... "You can do me a favor, Marie...er Miss Russell..."

"DeRussel...But Marie is fine...What can I do?..."

"I...We...Are gonna need a coupla witnesses...You can sorta be my maida honor and witness all in one, ok?..."

I mean, us not having time for the big thing and there being only my cousin Willie around what with poor unk dead and all...

"Did I mention he was gonna give me away?..."

"I am so sorry...Well, I certainly would be happy to assist you, Elizabeth...But are you sure there'll be time?...The train leaves at nine am..."

"There'll be time..." Elizabeth smiled... "Cousin Willie's seeing to the minister and bringing the license..."

Just got one minor detail to tend to...Soon as I can slip outta here...

"A pity we're both in..." Marie eyed Elizabeth's rather unmourning outfit..."Mourning...Though I suppose it does make it easier in terms of a wedding dress..."

"Yeah...I guess I outta see if I can get a hold of a black dress..." Elizabeth looked down at her traveling clothes... "Didn't know I'd be needin' one of course..."

Hmmn...I had to bring up the mournin' thing for poor ole Merrick...er Merritt...Now it's black for me for the next coupla weeks, soon as we get somewheres damn...

Thank God no time to shop tomorrow...Though if she can carry black off so well...she eyed Miss De Russel's elegantly stylish yet respectfully sober dress...

And the Council owes me the best I can get...

"Still..." Marie moved to her trunk and turned back to Elizabeth, smiling gently... "I can't help thinking your uncle wouldn't mind if you wore something a little more appropriate to the occasion...Though still more or less suitable for your condition..." she lifted out a rather stylish black number with white sash...

"It's really a ball gown but I should think that with a little effort...And it is black..." she beamed...

Whoa...Elizabeth stared...

Sold...Marie's natural sales instinct couldn't resist kicking in a bit as she eyed Elizabeth's smitten face...

"Come over and lets see what has to be done..." she beckoned...

The alley outside the Germania...

"Now sweetie..." Olive eyed the young girl of eleven or so she'd just put in thrall...A perfect choice being a general cleaner at the hotel on her way to her rather grueling night duties...

"You sure you know what to do when you get inside?..."

"Yes, miss...I gos and finds the pretty black-haired lady, miss...Like you made me see in me head, miss...And I tells her...You and him..." she pointed at Vladimir who smiled benignly... "Wants to know what's up...Then I comes back here to you...If nobody's followin'..."

A delightful girl, an intelligent girl...Dickens' fan Olive thought...

"Only if she's alone, dearie...If someone's there..."

"I waits near...Then goes to her..."

"Fine...And if the blonde lady, Miss Springs, catches you and wants you to tell her who sent you...?"

"I gives her what for with this...Then me..." the girl held up a rather sharp-looking, though wooden, knife...

"I wouldn't bother with trying to fight the Slayer, honey...Just get her to let you loose a second and then put it right in your sweet lil' heart..."

"Yes, miss..."

Vladimir standing by, a bit perturbed...Not at all by the suggestion of having an eleven-year-old immolate herself but by Olive's reaction to his suggestion that she pool forces with him against her lord and sire, the self-styled "Master" of vampires, Heinrich Nast...

She having displayed rather cool indifference in the few moments before their young recruit had fortuitously walked into their clutches...

"Now give us a kiss and be off...And for Hell's sake, sweetie...Don't let the Slayer or her friends get too close to you before you meet up with Miss DeRussel...She at least will spot your thrall ten feet off..."

Not my enthrallee...Vladimir thought contentedly...

"Yes, miss..." the girl demurely kissed Olive's cheek and headed off...

"Always did wonder what kind of a mother I'd make..." Olive beamed as they watched the girl enter the hotel via the back entrance in their alley...

"Yes...Charming..." Vladimir frowned...Tapping thumbs impatiently...

"Now as to your proposal, dear heart..." she smiled at him...

A gallant Dr. Potter had naturally, on Elizabeth's hesitant plea...My only relation left west of the Mississippi, me leaving for Lord knows how long...Invited Smackles to spend the night in his room in order to see his "cousin" properly off the next morning..."

Smackles himself a bit perturbed by her request...How's I supposed ta find a preacher, get the license, etc...While stuck here...

However, if the Slayer wants you to spend the night with her chosen one...And given Elizabeth's plans for the evening had been thrown a bit by Patter's...er Potter's dimwitted request to their a- bit-too-conveniently-arrived-on-scene-for-Willie's-comfort new friend Miss DeRussel, he could see the possible need for extra support in tonight's little action, whatever the girl had up her sleeves...

A clever one, as London had told him in their instructions, coming up with this one on short notice...And the mark...He eyed Potter, now engaged in checking his valuable instruments before settling down for the evening...Offering a friendly smile...Nice stuff ya got there...A perfect choice for clay pigeon...Er temporary spouse...Hell, textbook Watcher, if minus the brains...

Not that she'd be the first Slayer to hook with some chump for cover...

Though, before the end, he thought, with a genuine smile at Potter...Dearest, beloved Angela had really come to care for him...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part IX...

Having requested a moment to wish her dear cousin a good night's rest, Elizabeth left Miss De Russel and found young Dr. Potter alone in his room as she had expected…

Though, eyeing what she could of his rather surprisingly lithe and sinewy form sans coat, waistcoat, and collar before he hastily and sheepishly grabbed a robe...

Perhaps a bit of the unexpected...

Geesh...This little chore might be more entertaining than she'd imagined...

"Hey, Petey…Sorry to interrupt the absolutions..." she glanced about from the doorway… "Willie step out?..."

"He had a little business, he said…He'll be back soon…"

You bet he does...She thought, contentedly...

"Great…" she stepped in… "Then ya won't mind me waitin'…"

Ummn, but…He blinked at her…Not quite used to the American way just yet…

"Anything wrong?..."

Uh… "Well, Miss Springs…We are unchap…"

"Ya didn't say how ya liked my dress…" she twirled a bit, the skirt of the black dress, with bridal lace and white satin bow attached, rising…

Ummn…

"Marie lent me…For the mournin'…Gotta do it in proper style for poor ole unk, right?..."

"Yes…Ah...Very…Nice…Is it the usual custom to wear white lace and trimming?..."

"Only for special occasions…Peter…" she smiled at him… "Anyways, it's a dinner dress, she's fixin' it up…"

"Ah…"

"Handy with the needle, that girl…I wouldna thunk it…" Elizabeth noted… "You ok?..."

"Fine…Yes…" he nervously nodded…Avoid a direct look...

Gettin' through at last, eh?…she thought, pleased…

Took 'im long enough…She eyed the nearest chair and moved for it…Beginnin' ta think there I was gonna need to get a few belts of whiskey in 'im...

Well, maybe the contrast with Frenchie girl clinched it...Nice ta see pale, consumptive brunettes don't spin his wheels...She gave him a warm smile...That's me boy...

And not too bad a boy at that...She allowed another quick appreciative glance...

Not that I'm gettin' soft or anything...He's vamp fodder...After all gotta be ready take a few losses to win Richmond as the General would say...

"Perhaps, Miss Springs…We being alone…" he'd begun…Turning to see her comfortably seated, removing shoes…

"The dogs is pooped…" she indicated her feet, wriggling toes… "What?...Ain't we been alone all day?...Petey…" she grinned at him…

"Yes, but…Miss Springs…"

"Yeah, Petey…?"

"Your corset…"

"What corset, Petey?..."

"That's my point, Miss Springs…"

"Oh, don't need it now…Why, what's the matter?..." she eyed him…Then glanced down…

"Did ya think I stuffed or somethin'?..."

"Uh, no…"

"Right ya are…All Bethie…100 per..." she gave a grin… "Geesh, Peter…Not like I'm nekkid or anything..." Wider grin at his blush... "You must have seen ya sis and other girls without a corset before…"

"Well, yes…But not a stranger…And not in a room, alone…"

"Are we…Strangers, Petey?..." she asked, demure pout…

"I'm only thinking of…"

"Your rep's safe with me…" she grinned again… "Are the Brit girls as prissy as all that?..." wider grin…

"Some…Not all…" he returned the grin, relaxing a little…

"Now that's better…I knows you're a straight (God, lets hope...) fellar…Saw it right off…" she gave a slight frown…

"And you do know I don't go paradin' around for every guy I run across?..." stern look…

"Uh, certainly not…I'm sure…"

"Danged straight, boy...But we're friends now...And I know you're a right gent..."

He gave a slight bow, with following grin...Bringing forth another grin from her...

"You got a sense of humor, Petey...I like a guy who don't take himself too seriously..."

"Thanks...Are you sure you wouldn't prefer waiting with Miss De Russel?...She must be a bit lonely...:"

She involuntarily gave him a cool look...Huh?...

You want me to go?...Geesh...

Still, an opening...If played quick...

"I'm lonely too, Peter..." she gave him a long stare...

He blinked at her...

"Miss Springs, I really think..."

"I'm bein' too fast?..." she sighed...Pathetically... "I don't mean to upset ya..."

"No, not at all...It's just..."

"I thought maybe you liked me, Petey...I like you..."

"Miss Springs...We've just met..."

"I'm not the type to pussy-foot round when I like a guy, Petey...Peter..." she rose...Moving his way...

"Ummn..." he looked about...

For the door...Or help?...she wondered...Inwardly sighing...

Geesh, this is gonna take a little effort...Still, don't wanna scare him off...

"Sorry..." she backed off... "My intents were strictly honorable, Pete..."

"I'm sure..." he gasped a little... "But Miss Springs, it could...If someone else came in..."

"So ya don't mind it, so long as nobody catches ya?..." she eyed him shrewdly...

"No...I mean...Well, yes...I mean, no...I...I'm concerned for you...Your reputation...I know...I mean I understand you don't mean...But certain people , Miss Springs..."

"I'll manage, Petey..." she smiled... "And I don't like them people anyway...Just tell me you like me too, a little..." she edged closer now...

"Certainly...Yes...Just...Further away, please..."

"I won't bite...Less you want me to..."

"Miss Springs..."

"Elizabeth...Beth or Bethie if ya like...Do ya like, Peter?..."

"Uh..."

She frowned at his recoiling...

"Maybe ya prefer brunettes?...Pale ones?..."

[Please God, yes...Cicely thought...Staring at the now very animated...William as he read...]

"Miss Springs..." he frowned back... "You've no cause to..."

"Sorry..." she cast eyes down... "I just don' like missin' out on a good thing when I sees it..."

"Miss Springs, I really think..."

"You wants I should go...?" pathetic look...Tears welling...

Ummn...He stared at the sad, reddening face...

C'mon, c'mon...She urged herself...Les' get them waterworks agoin'...

'Sides he could be a lil' nicer...Geesh...Don't he like me?...I ain't that hard on the eye, I know that fer sure...She tried to raise eyes just enough to check her image out in the room's one long mirror just above the washbasin cabinet...

A tear ran down...She kept eyes down but managed to catch a glimpse of his suddenly stricken face...

Ah...That's a lil' more like it...

"Miss Springs...?"

She rose...Slowly...Turning face away towards door...Slowly...

"Sorry...I shouldna come..."

C'mon, c'mon...You a Brit gent or no?...You gonna let me go like this?...

"Now, Miss Springs..." he stepped over...

Raise hand to takin' positon...One step more toward door...Couple more tears runnin'...Good...

He took the hand, her left... "Miss Springs...Really..."

"I'm sor'..." she sighed, sniffling now, a few more tears trickling...

"You should be..." he said quietly, lifting her face to his with hand on her chin, firmly...A smile on his, she now saw...

Huh?...

"Elizabeth...If I may call you Elizabeth?...I'm sorry but I have to say you could use some acting lessons..."

She stared at his wry smile...

Hmmn...Miss Ana, back on duty in the Germania lobby was frowning at the guest book as Willie Smackles entered at the front door, a large-framed man, clearly of the cloth by his garb, in tow...

"Chet..." she waved over a young fellow clerk, his dark hair plastered down with the latest fashionable greasy creme, frowning at his leer...

"When did this get changed?...The Sheldon reservation?..."

"A coupla hours ago..." the clerk shrugged, eyeing the register...Where "Mrs. Emmaline Sheldon and party" had been scratched out in favor of "Miss Marie De Russel... "Messenger came by and said Mrs. Sheldon wasn't well and her friend Miss De..." he scanned the writing... "...Roosell.. .Would take her reservation..."

"Mrs. Sheldon's never canceled in the nine I've been here...Every year for her fittings in town like clockwork..."

"She did this time..." the lad shrugged again...Another leer... "'Sides, the friend's just as loaded and more my style..."

"De Russel...Never heard of her..."

"From out West...California...And headed back tomorrow..."

"Confided in ya, did she?..."

"You bet...I got my ways with the ladies..." Chet gave a confidential smile... "Which I'd be real happy to let you in on, after your time..."

"That'd be great...Only I don't think my Alex'd like it..." she smiled back... "And I'd hate to hafta clean up your guts from the walls when he got through with ya..."

"Ah..." he glowered... "What ya see in that dick anyways?..."

Willie led the man of God to the hotel staircase...Pulling him back from the entrance to the hotel bar...

"Later Sweeney..." he hissed... "I needa sober preacher for this one, not a drunk's chorus of Irish love songs..."

"Mr. Smackles...You might be remembering I'm a man of the cloth..." the addressed and much to his mind put upon Sweeney returned...

"Only so long as the Council don't let Rome find out about them two dames..." Willie eyed him... "And that missin' thousand from your parish funds..."

"Smackles...That's an accusation I will not tolerate...By my love of sweet Jesus, twas an accountin' error..." Sweeney's voice rose a bit, then as quickly fell as he realized others might hear the unsubstantiated, yet damaging falsehoods...

Hmmn...Had it really been a full thousand?...Saints preserve us, what the hell did I spend it on?...

"Just remember what you owe the Council, Father..." Smackles pulled him along... "And if you wanna keep that collar, look sharp..."

"A guy who can wipe up the floor with the likes of you..." Ana smiled again at Chet... "Another one, eh...Where in California?...There's no home address..."

"Guess she didn't write it down...Hey, she paid up front..."

"Never register without the address, ya moron..." she glared... "When she comes down I want it..."

"She's off tomorrow morning with the others...Ask him..." Chet pointed to Smackles, now leading Father Sweeney up the stairs... "They were all at dinner tog...Hey..."

She'd headed to the stairs, calling to Willie who paused, Sweeney turning back to look at the source of sound, a bit apprehensively...

Phew...Not her...For just a moment, thought perhaps ole Willie here'd brought the damned baggage along to emphasize his point...

"Sir?...Could I speak with you a moment?..."

Smackles, now a bit apprehensive himself...

"Yeah?..." Cautiously...

"Do you know a Miss..De...Russel?..."

"Hold it there, Father..." Willie held Sweeney firmly by the hand... "Wouldn't want ya to fall and break your neck..." The large Sweeney wincing in the smaller and slighter man's vise grip...

"Ya mean the black-haired number from dinner?...I don't know her...Just an acquaintance of my...Uh...cousin...Can't help ya..."

"I see...Sorry to bother you...And you, sir..." she nodded to Sweeney...Who gave a solemn smile and return nod...

"Bless you, my child..." And the Lord kill that devil's passion in me hart for ye...Ye wild rose of...

"If you do happen to see her...?"

"She run out on her bill?..." Willie asked...

"No, certainly not...We just need her California address...For the record..."

And the record is the record...As my Alex would say...

"Gotta cha...If I'm seein' her, I'll tell her...Come on, Father Sweeney, we ought to get upstairs..."

"Excuse me...Father?...Are you staying with us?..." Ana turned her attention to the large man...

"Nah...My ole friend the Father's just here for my cousin...A little consoling for the loss of her unk today...Les' go, padre...Poor kid's in need of some serious religion..."

"Of course, of course...Do excuse us, child..." Sweeney smiled benignly at Ana who nodded, pasting a discreetly sympathetic look on her features...

Ah...Sounds to me like that Springs girl's made a landin'...Not exactly seemin' the type to shed buckets for a dead uncle...She returned to the main desk...

"Chet...Tell the night dick to keep an eye on the Springs girl and that Potter guy...And to see the priest there leaves before midnight... I don't like the smell of things...Includin' you, get off...!" she pushed the clerk back from where he come up behind her, placing an arm on hers...

Not noticing the late arrival of one of the evening shift's younger cleaning girls...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of

William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part X...

"Extra towels?..." Elizabeth eyed Miss De Russell standing before their room's looking glass, engaged in brushing what to Miss Spring's slight disquiet proved to be rather long and luxuriant black hair...

Hoped it might be cut or at least a little less nice once outta the pins...Maybe some gray...But no such luck...

"What?..." Marie looked a bit blankly at her roomie...

"The girl...I figured she was bringin' some extra towels since you like to clean up..." Miss Springs nodded to the hallway...The said girl already exited by the door to the stairs at the far end of the corridor...

"Girl?...Oh, yes..." Marie nodded, a bit wanly, turning from the mirror... "No, I just asked her to remind the desk clerk to call us early..."

"Good idea..."

"How was Dr. Potter?...Is he settled in all right?..."

"Snug as a bug in a rug...He'll manage..." slight frown at naming of said Dr. Potter...

Laughin' up his sleeve at me back there...

Still, kinda nice ta know he ain't no stoop...Not that I can't handle his like...

"That's good...And how go the wedding plans?..." Marie smiled... "Did he like the dress?..."

"Yeah, he liked the dress..." slight sigh...

"Anything wrong?..."

Nah, I don't feel a little hurt, she told herself...Jest pissed he caught on...

She looked at Marie's sympathetic face...Hmmn...

Well, gotta do somethin' to retrieve things...And always best to use the tools the Lord give ya...

"I think..." she carefully modulated a gulp...Overplayed it with Patter just now, don't wanna screw it twice in one night...

Need actin' lessons...Har, har...Funny, Brit boy...

"...I think he's gettin' cold feet..." she sighed...

"Oh, no..." Marie shook her lovely head... "He mustn't do that to you..."

An' he won't...If there's a God in Heaven...Elizabeth noted to herself firmly...

"Did he give any reason?...I know you two only have known each other a short time but he seemed a man to keep his word...Why do men make such promises so fleetingly?..."

"Yeah..." Miss Springs nodded...Moving to and sitting in chair close by the standing Marie... "I really thought he was a keeper...Which is why I..."

Shooting for the marbles here, may as well go all the way...

Incoherent sobbing...Head on cushioned armrest...

Lord for a fancy place this thing smells...She thought...

"Miss Springs?...Elizabeth...?" Marie moved to her... "Is there anything I can do?..." she put a hand on Miss Springs' shoulder, pulling chair close and sitting...

"I don't know what I'm gonna do now..." Elisabeth lifted her head... "I mean, what if..."

"If...?" Marie asked...

"My auntie out in California will kick me out fer sure..."

"Oh, my..." Marie put hand to cheek... "Miss Springs?...You didn't..."

"He was so lovely sweet..." Elisabeth sighed... "I was burnin' for 'im...Ya know how it gets sometimes..."

"Oh, yes..." Marie nodded...

She does?...Miss Springs blinked a bit...

Figured I'd have to spell it out for a lady like this...Well, helps things along at that...

"But when was there time...?" Marie asked, gently...

"Love finds a way...Ya know?..."

"Oh, yes..." nod...

Lady's not as prude as all that, I reckon...Elisabeth stared as Miss De Russell, frowning, rose, turning for the door... "We must summon your cousin at once...He must speak to Dr. Potter regarding the matter, man-to-..."

"Oh, no..." Elisabeth rose...Sincerely urgent... "You can't tell him...Nobody, see?...I'd be much too much shamed..."

"But my poor girl...The gentleman must do right by you..."

Oh...He will...Now...Elisabeth thought...

"Maybe he...He jest needs some pushin'...Discretelike, ya know?...I don't think he's really the bad sort...Maybe I jest was too much for him..."

"Always the way..." a trace of bitterness in Miss De Russell's tone that caught Elisabeth by surprise... "They do the damage and we pay for the goods..."

Hmmn...Marie paused, pondering...I almost get the feeling I've been in this situation before...Perhaps my wealthy father had some of his girls in trouble?...She struggled to think...Her spark of will quickly fading...

Yes...That must be it...My poor dead wealthy father's factory girls...She brushed it off and tried to focus on the matter at hand...

Miss Springs eyed her annoyed if somewhat wanly roomie...

Girl has been around for such a ladylike type...

"If he got the message...Not in so many words but just kinda pointed out to him?...The way a gent should handle it?...I think he'd come round and do the right thing by me..."

"Leave it to me, dear..." Marie patted her shoulder... "I'll speak to the shop manager..." she blinked... "I mean...I'll speak to the doctor..." Yes, there's a good one in...No, wait...I think I mean...

"I mean Dr. Potter..." she said, suddenly... "Yes, I'll speak to him..."

Ummn...Ok...Elizabeth stared...

"I oughta come too..."

"It wouldn't humiliate you?..." Marie asked...

"Nah..." brightly...Ummn... "I mean...Not if you don't bring it up in so many words..."

In the alley near the Germania, the Prince of the Dracule attempted to collect himself, brushing the refuse of the garbage bin into which Olive had unceremoniously dumped him after slamming him down following his little proposal of a revolutionary alliance against Nast...

Thank God and the Lord of Hell no one had borne witness to this humiliation...Though of course he'd been taken by surprise...

Oh, God...If ole Granduncle Vlad ever found out, even in his stasis prison...

Still...The key thing was his continued existence...Her message, obviously, that while she wasn't ready to accept his proposal just yet...

Things change...And everything is negotiable...

Yes, all-in-all not a bad outcome...Given that no one else human or demonic had seen...And the natural desire of the lady to make it clear she was not one to be trifled with...

He was grateful to find himself in relative good shape at the sound of footsteps...

"Mister...?" a vague call to him...

Can't place the voice...Oh, yes...

"Hello, my dear...It's 'Master', though..." he explained to the little hotel cleaner who'd managed to slip out to see him...

"Sor' Master...I saw the lady...I tole her...What the other lady said to say..."

"Ah, yes...Well, your Mistress is occupied..." Tore her dress lifting my unconscious form into that damned bin...he did not say... "What did she say?..."

"She's goin' with the people you wants her to...She et with 'em..."

"Fine, dear...You'd better go back and tend to your duties...Just make sure you pass by the lady's room from time to time in case she needs to contact you...And if you do speak with her, alone...Tell her Vladmir appreciates her good efforts...But only if she's alone...Do

you understand, dear?..."

"Yep..." she gave a soldierly salute like the ones she'd seen the soldier boys give during the war when she was little and they'd drilled near her home...

"Master..." she added...

He patted her head and returned the salute with an indulgent smile...

Charming thing, really...He noted to himself as she headed off...

Might be interesting to keep her alive until young womanhood and see what could be done with her...

Pygmalion with his own American Galatea...he mused...Well, certainly a better fate than she's likely to know as a miserably poor human urchin...

Or at dear Olive's hands...

I cannot believe that girl...Potter frowned at the mirror in his room...

Acting like that to further whatever little scheme she and that "cousin" of hers have in mind...Probably regarding that book which it's now clear belongs to neither of them...

Lord, did the other one steal it?...Some rare and priceless tome they hope to sell?...

Though, why in California?...Surely New York or Boston would be the places in this benighted land to sell an antique to some wealthy collector...Or at that why not back in London...?

"Maybe it's what's in the book..." he mused aloud... "Something they needed me to translate for them...Yes...Keep me close, get me to blindly translate it, then what?...A quick knifing and dump one Potter in the local cesspool?..."

Of course, on the other hand...She seemed such a sweet girl at times...

Perhaps she just...

No...Enough of this...Regardless of the young lady's true motives, Peter Soames Potter has other things to do than be the fool dupe and mark for a couple of Yank sharps...And if that "uncle", whoever Merritt was and whatever he was really to her, was murdered en route to New York...All the better to avoid the wily (if unskilled as actress) Miss Springs like...

"Dr. Potter...? My apologies, your door was open..."

"Miss De Russell..." Peter stared at Marie in dressing gown, coat loosely thrown over her shoulders...

"Hey, Pete..." Elizabeth smiled from the doorway...Still in black and lace gown... "Sorry to be interruptin' you again..."

"Miss Springs?..." coolly... "May I ask..."

"Brought along an old friend I met just outside..." the voice of Willie Smackles...Followed by him in the flesh, with a large, silver- haired, red-faced man in black...Clerical?...Peter stared...Garb...

"Sure and blessin's on this happy gathering..." Sweeney beamed...Peering into the room...

One left for me I see...He noted contentedly as he nodded kindly to Miss De Russell and Miss Springs...

Praise be to the dear Father of us all...

The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of

William Soames Walthrop...

PG-13

Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...

Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...

Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...

Part XI...

Dr. Potter's room...Where, if in the politest terms possible, the gentle Miss De Russell had made the situation somewhat clear to the startled Peter...

Miss Springs standing by, a look of utter innocence and trusting faith...Surely the good Dr. would play the part of a true gentleman...And get on with it...Willie Smackles at her side like a

good and supportive cousin...Shocked by the intelligence being communicated...However discretely...

"Are you accusing me...?" Potter said, tone swiftly moving from astonishment to rage... "Miss De Russell, I assure you that I am not the sort of man..."

"I certainly hope not, Dr. Potter..." Marie said, solemnly...

Hmmn...This deal needs clinching...Miss Springs thought...

"It's all right..." she said suddenly, tears starting... "I don't want to force anyone to do anything they don' wanna...I'll be all right...Somehow..." she made for the door...

What the damned bloody hell?...Potter stared...

"You been messin' with my cousin, Potter?..." Smackles, loudly...

"Now Mr. Smackles..." Marie put up a hand... "I'm sure the doctor will do the right thing..."

"What the bloody hell are you people talking about...?" Potter cried..."Miss Springs, goddamn it!...What have you been...?"

"That's enough, Potter!..." Smackles growled... "Here in the States, we know how to deal with types who mistreat our womenfolks..."

"My boy..." Sweeney rumbled portentiously... "As a gentleman, you ought to know your duty to a young lady..."

What?... "Now you little..." Peter began...As Smackles removed his coat...

"Oh, don't hurt him!..." Elizabeth cried...Smackles raising fists...

Much...She thought contentedly...

"Gentlemen!...I will call for the manager!..." Marie cried...

Hmmn...Miss Springs thought...Probably the best thing...

Wouldn't really want to see that pretty face banged up...And Willie is a master of the boxing art...

He at least oughta look good at the funeral...

"This is ridiculous!..." Potter backed away from Smackles, who'd taken up position, fists ready..."I've done nothing to Miss Springs except spending the afternoon with her and finding her a room..." He reluctantly raised his hands in defense... "Smackles, you and your

cousin are a couple of lying..."

"That's all I need to hear, brother..." Smackles began closing in for the kill...

"Manager!..." Marie cried...

"We oughta go and get him..." Elisabeth suggested...

"What the devil's up here?..." a familiar voice...

Potter looked over to see Detective Harris from the New York City docks staring in the doorway, the hotel clerk Miss Ana beside him, hands on hips, annoyed...

"What are you people up...?"

All lights went out...As Smackles found his opportunity...

Lair of the (would-be) Napoleon of vampires...(Would-be)throne room...

"Vladmir is watching the hotel?..." Nast questioned...

"As I said, yes..." Olive frowned as she stood on the level below that of his elevated throne..One must not be seen on rising to be a foot shorter than one's average subject... Eyeing the new dress she'd had to steal from a nearby shop before coming...

Well, minor price to pay to witness that expression on young Dracula's face when I slammed him into that wall...To indicate my annoyance at being asked to betray my very own dear sire...

Still...A girl must keep her options open...This "Apocalypse" thing could be true...

Heinrich always did lack the patience to think things through...Consider the consequences of rash actions...

Anyway, no doubt our dear Count got my message...If I deal when the time comes, it's as an equal partner...

"And your new agent is traveling with them...Human in thrall?...Are you sure Vladmir has done the job right?..."

"At female enthrallment even I will concede he's among the best...She's under firm control..."

"But if the Slayer detects her?..."

"We lose a mere human agent...Heinrich, she must be aware we're on her tail and if she spots her, we and our other agents will be able to take up the slack...Besides, I have to further admit Vladmir did an excellent job of concealing her bite scar and her thrall state...I think she'll be an asset..."

Hmmph...Nash glared...

Putting trust in human operatives, even if well-thralled...What the Christ are we coming to in Evil...?

Still...It is little enough to lose...And could even divert the Slayer from our real people...

"Unless you have a remarkably better plan...?" Olive, pasting an attentive look... "Perhaps Gregor could give it another try...?"

"One day, Olive...You will go too far..."

"My dearest lord..." she bowed... "I only seek to serve you and all things Evil..."

Uh-huh...He frowned...Tapping thumbs together...

"Well, keep me informed...Constantly... And do not trust Dracula too far..."

"Never, dearest..."

"I mean before we eliminate him at the end of his usefulness..."

"Of course..." Olive nodded... "So, do we travel together to California?..."

"Mmmn...I think it's best you and Vladmir stay close...To the Slayer..." he added, a trifle blandly...

"I will be there for the finale when you and she arrive, rest assured..."

"I'm sorry..." she said, a bit miffed... "I'd thought you'd be there to see me defeat her en route...And take her then...Why wait until California?..."

"Until we know she has the location of the Hellmouth for certain, we may need her contacts with the Council...That requires she remain human for the moment...Olive?..." he stared at her frowning face...

"Fine...It would have been a nice trip together..." she shrugged...

"Another time, once I've become the world's Master...We'll see the great West together then...In any case we'll be in California together..."

"Sure...And I suppose you'll want her undamaged when you take her in California..."

"You will have your chance to defeat her in battle, Olive...I promise...And however useful she is to me in revealing the Hellmouth, her demon will never compare in my regard to you..."

"Great..." dryly...

"You look tired, my girl...Make sure you sample some of my vintage stock before you leave...And Olive...?...Nothing says you can't enjoy the pleasure of matching wits with her and taking anyone she cares about...There are great joys in tormenting before killing, you

know..."

Damn him...She thought, sighing as she was directed to the "vintage stock"...Agonized screams of the human dying rebounding through the dank tunnel hall...

When he gets like that, a girl gets confused about her heart even against her own best interests...

"Gregor?..." Nast, back in his throne room, turned to the pure-bred vampire...Currently but only recently out of protective armor suit... "You're sure of what you saw?..."

"Dracula...Ennnnh..." Gregor shook head... "Bad speak..."

"And Olive attacked him but spared him?..."

Decorous pause...Embarassed look...

"Gregor?...We all love dear Olive...But for Evil's greater good?..."

"Olive let go...Hear bad speak..." Gregor shook his gray death's-head head sadly...

"My heart's broken, too, Gregor..." Nast sighed, patting him...

The eminent Dr. Potter awoke to find himself stretched on a sofa in his room...An anxious Marie chaffing his hands...A worried Miss Ana...

Lord, just what the hotel needs...

...And a frowning Detective Harris...Standing round him...

"Dr. Potter?...Thank goodness..." Marie sighed... "For a moment we thought Mr. Smackles' blow might have been more serious..."

He stared at her...

{The brunette...Cicely noted with satisfaction...Thralled but sweet and the giver as well as object of devotion...Whereas the scheming little blonde...

...Though it is disturbing that she should be the Slayer...]

"Where's...?"

"With her cousin..." Marie explained... "She was quite concerned for you..."

Sweeney entered, a bit out of breath with a box...

"No, Father..." Marie turned to him... "Last rites will not be required after all..."

There's the first good news of the day...Miss Ana sighed...

"I said take my part and push him into it, not beat the life outta of the little guy..." Miss Springs glared at Willie as they stood in the hallway outside the room...She occasionally glaring off the passing curious guest...What's it to ya, pal?...

"I didn't mean to land one...He moved when Sweeney came in... 'Sides, it's only a question of time anyway..."

"I need him alive till we get the Book set...And to draw Nast's fire...That means he gotta be kept close..." she frowned... "And how do I get him to make me Mrs P. tonight now you probably broke his jaw?..."

"We could magics him..." Willie suggested... "I could try and find somebody..."

"Too many witnesses tonight to have him start going all lovey...Besides, magics is double-edged...Nast'd pick up on it and might get a hold on him before we get the Hellmouth nailed..."

"You were gonna embarrass him into it...He gotta be embarrassed big time now..." Willie shrugged... "Why not just go on and try...?"

"He ain't the type..." she said quickly...Not thinking...

"What's that supposed to mean?..."

"I just mean he won't let fists push him to it...He ain't a coward, whatever he is..."

Willie stared at her...

"What?..." she frowned...

"We are gonna get this dude killed, you know..." he noted... "If you want him outta this, now's the time..."

"I know what we're about..." she snapped back... "Doesn't mean I can't show the little feller a little respect before I get him killed...He's a hero, in a sorta way, you know..."

Long stare...

"Just leave the doc to me and keep your fists in your pockets while I tries to straighten this mess out...I..."

"Miss Springs?..." Marie had come to the room door...

At last...I was getting ready to use my fists meself if she found one more excuse to keep me from his side...

"Dr. Potter would like to speak to you... And Mr. Smackles..."

She nodded politely...Putting up a hand to block Willie as Miss De Russell returned to her charge...

Let me handle...Hiss...

"Miss Springs..." Potter eyed her from his prone position...

"Hey..." she waved... "Willie's real sorry his temp got outta hand..."

"Yeah..." Willie responded to her sudden poke in the ribs... "Real sorry..."

"I understand...And I meant no disrespect to your cousin..." Peter nodded carefully, groaning as he sat up...

"In fact...Since it seems I've thoughtlessly placed her in a compromising position..." he blandly eyed Elizabeth who stared back...

"...I ask her and your forgiveness...And if the good Father is willing...I would be very pleased...Proud..." he struggled to rise...Hmmn, not a chance...

"Forgive me for not getting down...Miss Springs?...If you could find it in your dear heart to forgive me, would you still do me the honor of becoming my wedded wife...?"

She blinked...Willie blinked...

Marie beamed...

Knew the doctor was the right sort of man...You can always tell by the clothes a man chooses...Even if poor, the right sort always goes for the best quality...

Hmmn...Well, anyway...

"That'll do it..." Miss Ana nodded, mollified...

Detective Harris frowning even more than before...

This all bears watchin'...

More's to come...


End file.
